Let The Dead Lie
by Selene Sokal
Summary: Cinder Fall was a woman without a past, having lost her history along with her village a long time ago. But upon encountering another survivor of her village while infiltrating Beacon, she realizes that her past is not yet gone, and it threatens to unsettle everything she's built.
1. Cin's Past

"Cinder?"

She froze. Her name wasn't secret, it was on her registration information, but it wasn't a good sign that someone was saying it with a tone of what she feared most: _recognition_.

"Cinder Fall? Are you-"

The voice was unfamiliar, but there were plenty of people in the world, small, insignificant types who'd been caught in her wake. Unavoidable occupational hazard, no matter how much she worked to insulate herself behind her flunkies. She steadied a pleasant-looking, slightly neutral smile and braced herself for whoever she had evidently left an impression on.

She turned and saw the face of a dead man.

It was impossible. She'd _seen_ him- No, it wasn't him. It was a face of a different man. His son. It wasn't the face she saw, smeared in its own blood, eyes unfocused, a look of dismayed confusion the last emotion on its lifeless face. But his son had died that night, too, right? She hadn't stayed to check, but, surely-

"It's- It's you, right?" His voice seemed like he wasn't allowing himself to truly believe it, but suddenly, broke into one of the brightest smiles she'd ever seen. "It is! Oh gods, it's really you—Cin, you- you're alive!"

"…Jaune?"

He slammed into her faster than even her reflexes could respond to. He wrapped her arms around her in something that took Cinder a second to realize wasn't an attack. It was a hug. She was being hugged. She did not like it.

"Hey! Idiot!" Emerald, the dear, was quick to pry him off her. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he laughed, brushing away a tear, "It's just—Cin and I," she bristled at the use of her old nickname, "we grew up in the same village, and I thought, I mean, well," he took a deep breath, his voice suddenly grave and emotional, "there was a Grimm attack, and… and we thought, my sisters and my mom, we thought we were the only survivors. And… you're, you're alive! Dust, Saph is going to _freak_ when I tell-"

"**NO!**" she shouted, startling everyone around her. She corrected herself, "I mean, I'm not- I'm not ready. I- give me some time, Jaune, I only just learned you've survived, and I don't think…" She wasn't sure if the tears welling in her eyes were genuine or fake, but they certainly were persuasive, "I'm not ready to see Saphron, not yet."

Jaune's look, full of obvious compassion, disgusted her for it's simpering emotionality. But she put on an act of seeming to reciprocate. Seemed to work well enough for the idiot. "Hey, I- would you like to join my team for dinner tonight? I can make my mom's bouillabaisse! I mean, I know we've got classes and stuff, but this is way more important."

Ah, here was the problem. More contact with someone who knew her was to risk exposing herself, and, as she looked around, Jaune seemed to surround himself with _exactly_ the people Cinder wanted to minimize her personal contact with. However, there was reward in that risk—it wasn't hard to notice that two of her biggest areas of concern, the girl Ozpin's little group appeared to be scouting as the potential successor _and_ the girl who'd been giving Roman so much trouble, seemed to be following his lead with this. He could be an easy means of leading them around by the nose.

She had been given a surprise by his presence, but it was no real difficulty to steady her hand and weigh the advantages. She affected a posture of shocked grief and tiredness to beg off the engagement, for now. "That's… I think I would like that, Jaune. But I think I need to lie down, for a little bit, if my teammates would help me…"

And with that, Emerald and Mercury snapped to her side, escorting her away from their attention. As she left, she could hear Jaune talking a mile a minute, explaining the details of who she was to her teammates. This was a difficult situation that would have to be handled carefully, and the only way she could do that is if she could remove herself for long enough to strategize.

She could channel her shock, surprise, and that tiny, welling feeling of sorrow in her towards a new direction. Anger, for instance. And she knew where she could target that.

* * *

"Tell me," she started, innocuously, "Was one of you planning on telling me that the last heir of the Arc family was currently attending this school? I'm sure it just slipped your minds." Their eyes lit up in terror at her wrath. It got worse as her gaze narrowed. "Or did you simply happen not to notice?"

Emerald, stammering, was quick to attempt a defense, "W-we t-thought he was a nobody! His grades are terrible, his combat performance is worse, he doesn't even have a semblance!"

"Yeah, only thing that really seemed notable about him is the partner he lucked into," complained Mercury. "Kid's a dud. I still don't see how he matters."

"He matters," she scowled, "because he _knows _me. He knows who I am and-" she paused for emphasis, neither of her subordinates meeting her gaze, "-_that_ means I now have attention. His, _and_ his friends. Remind me who those are?"

"P-Pyrrha Nikos and the girls of Team RWBY," Emerald answered.

"Who happened to be some of our biggest areas of concern, correct?" She withered under her glare.

Mercury seemed to have regained enough courage to attempt to change the subject. "So… what's the plan? Does he need to have an 'accident' to get him out of the way?"

She sighed. Of course he jumped to assassination as though that wouldn't unbalance her entire operation. "No, we stick with the current plan. This is an advantage; it's an opportunity to get closer to our targets, don't you think?" Mercury seemed particularly happy with the idea, which meant she needed to smack his interest down a little, but other than that, he and Emerald seemed to pick up her meaning.

"Emerald, I want you to take this as an opportunity to further your ties with Team RWBY, and Mercury, use this to gain an in with Team JNPR, _not-_" she preemptively cut him off, "-with Ms. Nikos. Focus on the men of the team, you'll have more luck there." She ignored his eyeroll. Mercury's insubordination was a known factor, but so far, it was only noise. She could trust that he would follow her instructions.

"Aye-aye, Ma'am!" Ah, Emerald, so unsubtle in her feelings, such a useful tool. "And… will you also be infiltrating the teams?"

She was surprised, a little, at her boldness, but she shouldn't have been, really. _Is that a hint of jealousy, hmm?_ "I will. But only to the extent of covering your entrance to the group. I plan to use the excuse that the experience makes me 'too emotional' to want frequent contact—you will exploit their sympathy and direct their attention away from me."

Mercury nodded, then shot her a conspiratorial grin. "So… can we start calling you _Cin_ now, too?"

In a flash, she had her hand at his throat and the back of his head slammed into the wall. His eyes lit up in terror as a lick of flame danced across his chin. "_You,_" she hissed, "should not forget who you work for and _why_ you work for her." She released him, and he slumped to the ground, babbling apologies she wasn't listening to. "Do not presume to take liberties with me. Do not presume that this is an opportunity for jokes. Am I understood?"

Clutching his throat, he nodded furiously. This was the other risk: in revealing her past, her childhood, it might become more difficult to maintain authority over these two. But, she supposed, looking at Mercury, it only took a little hint of force to remind them what their relationship was.

* * *

She had dined with military officers and celebrities, with underworld kingpins in seedy clubs and politicians in glamorous restaurants. She'd eaten good food, bad food, cheap food, and food more expensive than most people spent in a month. Meals were, in a way, her preferred battlefield. A space negotiated by alcohol and strategic use of her lips, where food was an excuse for conversation, and conversation was a means of unearthing secrets, or garnering cooperation.

And yet, she felt wholly unprepared for this.

Mercury and Emerald's information on Team JNPR had been extensive. And she had to admit, to herself, not to them, they had been right. Apart from Pyrrha Nikos, they truly were not a team of particular interest. Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren were a pair from the wilderness of Mistral—one of the thousand lost sons and daughters of Remnant—and while they were admittedly skilled, they were still only beginners. Capable, but not particularly dangerous, and certainly more interested in graduating than investigating criminal conspiracies.

Jaune himself was… a disappointment. Emerald had easily dug up his application materials and they were clearly forged. He had no Huntsman's background and, judging from Mercury's assessment, had been getting by solely by virtue of his partner's efforts. What he was offering her in exchange, she couldn't tell. But it hardly mattered—if not for having known Cinder personally, Jaune would most likely not have even warranted notice.

But he did know her, and so now she was in a rarely-used dining room in the Beacon dorms, seated around a small table with Nikos, Valkyrie, and Ren, while Jaune hurried back and forth between the table and the kitchen, bringing out small dishes and preparing the meal. Valkryie seemed to be almost electric with glee, rocking back and forth in her chair. "I didn't even know Jaune could cook!"

"My mom," he passed baguettes to each of their plates, "made sure we—my sisters and I—all knew the family recipes, wanted to make sure at least one of us would carry on the legacy."

"Mrs. Arc's cooking was—I suppose, _is_—phenomenal," she added, politely, "It would be a shame for it to be lost. And thank you for dinner, Jaune."

"You should thank Pyrrha!" he shouted from the kitchen, "She helped me reserve the room, _and_ paid for the fish market bill!"

The girl blushed—was this really the top candidate for the new Fall Maiden? She supposed it made some sense with Ozpin's idiotic sentimentality—and mumbled something about sponsorship money.

"And _I_ got to hit Blake with a broom!" Valkyrie added, with a bit too much enthusiasm. It seemed the resident Faunus of Team RWBY had an appropriately catlike appreciation for the piscine—she filed that fact away for future use. Roman might not be able to make any use of that information, but he'd probably enjoy hearing it. "Hey, lady!" she practically shouted at Cinder, "How come you're so much older than the rest of us?"

Well, that certainly was a pointed question. Fortunately, her partner was there to intervene. "_Nora!_ That's not polite!" he hissed, then lectured her under his breath. "Beacon's notable for taking most of their students at 17, right out of the combat schools. The other academies, like Haven, tend to take more huntsmen-in-training from people who come to professional hunting from the frontiers, or are otherwise more self taught."

She nodded at that. Of course, she was in a room with three exceptions to Beacon's combat school graduate rule, two field-experienced (AKA "homeless") students and one fraud, but when people pictured Beacon students, they definitely didn't picture someone like Cinder. It was plausible enough that she might be a Haven student, which made her hands-on approach to managing Emerald and Mercury possible. Even better, there were students like Lie Ren who were more than happy to explain away any perceived discrepancies for them.

Jaune reentered the room, apparently having missed this discussion. "As mom always said, if you're cooking for the people you love," Ms. Nikos certainly made an _interesting _noise when she heard that word, "it's not really work!"

Cinder grimaced a little at the line. Not at the corniness, though that was certainly a factor, but the way in which it triggered a memory from her childhood. She'd heard Mrs. Arc say that to Saphron and her other children dozens of times, but that _recognition_ seemed to prime her memory, suddenly furnishing the bits and pieces of her recollection—the color of the kitchen wallpaper, the texture of the dining table, the noise of the oven door squeaking on its hinge—that made the difference between a recalled fact and a lived experience.

She didn't like it. There was another danger in this room, separate from losing her low profile at Beacon, or even losing her authority over her subordinates. She was a trained killer, a remorseless assassin and saboteur who completed missions for her Mistress without hesitation. But that was not who she always was. Her Mistress had found her that morning, shattered, lost, and alone, and rebuilt her into something terrible. Something that didn't have fond memories of family dinners with her best friend. It was easier to think of herself as someone who emerged, fully formed, from the darkness of the Grimmlands, rather than someone who was once a teenaged girl with dreams, crushes, and aspirations. That was Cin's life, and she had died with her village.

Now on edge, she kept watch as he returned to the kitchen, probably the last moment of preparation before the real dinner began. She looked out across the table. Nikos: seated politely and professionally, casual, but the sort of casual that suggested she was well practiced at it. Valkyrie: buzzing up and down on her seat, may not have the patience to wait for the actual meal to be served. Ren: gently guiding Valkyrie's hand back as they kept reaching for the baguette.

All in all… this would be easy. She just had to maneuver herself into their circle, and use her emotional hold over their leader to keep them, and their sister team, in the dark on what she had planning. Keep her own memories at bay, put on a show of personal sorrow and loss for the dinner, and she had an unquestionable in with her most important student targets—targets who would be more than happy to witness to her unimpeachable character if she needed that down the line.

Jaune returned from the kitchen with a tureen, held, awkwardly, in a pair of pink oven mitts. He set it down on the table with a flourish and opened the lid. Cinder had to admit, he seemed to have done a solid job with the Arc family recipe. After all the smell of it-

And then something _clicked._

* * *

_Her parents were fighting again._

_It seemed that fighting was all they did now, but today was especially bad. It was a day where she felt far more comfortable just staying away from the house. They'd gotten used to it—oh, sure, her mom would chew her out later for not telling anyone where she was, but really, it's not like her parents would even notice she was gone until much later. This was just more of their normal family dysfunction._

_So she went to Saph's. They'd been friends since childhood, and she probably spent more time hanging out in her bedroom than her own, especially recently. Right now, she was lying on Saph's bed, arms sprawled over the side and staring at the ceiling, while her friend idly paged through a fashion magazine._

_"I'm so booooooored," she groaned as she sat herself up._

_"Use it for your art, Cin," her friend suggested, "You're never going to make it in the art world unless you can pull off the whole 'life is pain' thing."_

_"I work with glass because its jaggedness speaks to the cruelty of life," she said with mock gravitas, "and everything is black because that's the only color that's real."_

_Saph broke into a fit of giggles, "Yes! Exactly that! You'll be the toast of Vale's art scene in no time!" She held up the magazine and pointed to the photo, a model wearing a black dress and a detached, disdainful expression. "We both have to channel her—that's how we make it in the world."_

_She flopped back down on the bed, "Ugh! It's like they want to go back to the old days when color and fun were outlawed."_

_"Oh? And are we about to see a new Ms. Cinder Fall, who loves color and joy and puppies?" Cinder threw a pillow at her friend, who playfully deflected it. "Don't get why you like working with glass so much, you'd think you'd wanna get as far from your parents' work as you could."_

_"I just think glass is…" it was hard to talk about her art, even to Saph. Her parents thought it was wasteful, and if anyone else knew about her hobby, she knew it'd completely destroy her hard-earned reputation. "It's so… delicate. Like, anything I make, no matter how good it is, has to be handled with care. All the pieces I've made, I have to be so careful with them, just to keep them from breaking, and that's…" she trailed off. She didn't have the words for it, but learning to blow glass was the one thing she appreciated about her parents raising her._

_Saph smiled at her. "You're such a dork," she teased._

_The door opened, and, despite not being up to anything, they scrambled to seem innocent out of habit. It was Mrs. Arc, who gave them a resigned-but-skeptical look. "Dinner's almost ready, girls. Should I have Jaune and Violet set out a plate for you, too, Cinder?"_

_"No, Mrs. Arc," she looked at her shoes, glumly, "I have to get home to my parents."_

_"Cinder, honey, I insist—I'll call your mother. It's already dark out, and there's been so many Grimm out on the roads lately, right honey?" she yelled at her husband._

_"What?" she heard Mr. Arc's voice echo from the living room, "Oh, yes, yes, of course, dear, whatever you say."_

_She smiled at Cinder, the matter evidently settled, and hustled them both over to the dining room. There, Jaune and Violet, two of Saph's younger, dweebier siblings, were having an argument over which comic book character could beat up another while they set the table. Both looked up in terror as she entered the room—she and Saph had a habit of merciless teasing—but she waved it off as a gesture of peaceable intent while she grabbed forks and spoons for the dinner table, gazing over appreciatively at the simmering broth as Mrs. Arc added more fish to it._

_Seated at the table, she looked around the forest of cheerful blonde faces. To her right, Saph was egging on Jaune and Violet's argument, playing dumb about some character and infuriating the both of them. To her left, Mr. Arc was explaining to two of his daughters a particular strategy of Grimm hunting he employed against Ursa. Mrs. Arc was in the kitchen, finishing the meal. It was the perfect family scene, really, the sort of thing that belonged in a postcard or novel._

_A small, but growing, part of her wished this really was her family. Let her be the 9__th__ Arc sibling, the dingy, miserable girl lost amidst the crowd of happy blondes, absorbing the radiance of their familial love. She wanted it, she wanted to belong somewhere, anywhere, so badly, but knew this wasn't for her._

_She only had to look at herself._

* * *

She struggled not to gasp as she pulled herself away from the memory.

None had noticed her lapse of attention, distracted by Jaune bringing in the rest of the course. He presented a dish of fish, crustaceans, and mussels to the table, to many _oohs_ and _ahs_, and then went around ladling broth into their bowls_._ It was, she had to admit, the very image of Mrs. Arc's cooking—for as much of a slacker as her son was, he seemed to have taken her cooking lessons to heart. She watched as he served everyone, but her focus was on the rest of the table, who were playing the same game. Jaune—and the food—were the center of attention, but in truth, everyone's eyes were on her.

Her lip quivered.

She knew her best option was to run. Her instincts screamed at her to shove the dish away and head to the door. If the scent could trigger a flashback, taste would do so much worse. It took all of her willpower to keep the memories, the hundreds of memories, to keep _Cin_, at bay, and she knew that it was a losing battle.

But her pride wouldn't allow it.

She couldn't allow herself to voluntarily lose her dignity in front of these children. All eyes were on her, watching her hesitation and waiting for her fork to pierce the fish and taste it. Even if she knew her dispassionate façade was doomed, she'd take her chances with the fish. She simply could not run away, no matter how much she knew she was risking.

She speared a chunk of mussel, brought it to her lips, and chewed.

It was… not quite as good as his mother's.

Some ratio of the seasoning wasn't quite right, perhaps due to the boy's lack of experience, but it felt like the spell had been broken. A wave of relief washed over her as she realized that this was just fish—not a psychological bomb. She'd grown so paranoid, so used to life-or-death stakes that she'd been almost completely cowed by a teenager cooking dinner!

The absurdity of the scenario almost made her laugh. She struggled to suppress a chuckle, but it seemed to stick in her throat—becoming an irrepressible gasping, coughing motion that she struggled to contain—as her eyes teared up and all of a sudden, she wasn't laughing anymore. She felt a sniffle, a gurgle in her throat, and then the wetness of a single tear crossing her cheek.

And the dam broke.

Nearly a decade of pent-up sorrow raged forth in a torrent of sobs as she dropped her fork and dug her fingers into the table, desperate to hold on to anything she could. All thoughts of poise and dignity crumpled with her as her vision blurred and she bawled. A thousand memories, of Mrs. Arc of her hometown of glassblowing of Jaune of her parents of the worst night of her life of Saph—gods, _Saph._ Watching cheesy movies together, talking about their dreams, getting chewed out by both of their parents, telling each other secrets. Every single memory, like a drumbeat against her chest, battered her. How did anyone survive losing so much in a single night? _How had she?_

She wanted to scream, to tear herself apart to let the pain, the emptiness, stop. Her parents had died protecting her, they were terrible parents, but they _died_ for her, drawing the Grimm away as she hid in a cabinet, a useless, weak, and stupid girl who thought she wanted to be an artist in a world that devoured people alive. She saw their bodies in the morning, couldn't bear to get close to them, but knew that it was them. She staggered, half-mad, to where she always went—and she saw his body. Saw the bloodstained Crocea Mors saw the unblinking, uncomprehending gaze of a dead man. Saw the crows. Saw the blood on their beaks.

She saw she saw she saw and the tears couldn't stop and _she_ _can't. stop. crying._

It was the Valkyrie girl, of all people, who put her arms around her and drew her back from her nightmare. "It's okay," she whispered to her, "better out than in. Ren and I, we lost our village, too. Sometimes you've got to let it all out."

In any other world, in any other time, she'd have rather died than accept this girl's sympathy, but here, she was a drowning woman desperate to cling to anything that seemed to be floating around her. She wrapped her arms around her and bawled. She buried her face in the girl's shoulder and heaved with sobs.

She grieved. For the first time since the attack, she truly grieved her parents and neighbors and how much she had lost. When it happened, she was too stunned, emotionally deadened by the shock of the incident, and soon, she would be recruited, told she was "the sole survivor," and from there, grief was a weakness, a flaw that could be exploited. Her survival relied on controlling her emotions, and so she simply never allowed herself to feel grief.

But here… here, surrounded by these bright-eyed students, her best friend's younger brother, it was all so strange, so unlike the world she lived in, she briefly allowed the mask to slip, and in that opportunity, she was Cin again. The girl who dreamed of being an artist, the aloof teen who knew her provincial town life was too small for her dreams, the daughter who lost everything when her family died.

The mask shattered and now she was truly adrift. Racked with sobs, she held on to the girl, staining her shoulder with tears and clinging to her like her life depended on it. In many ways, it did.

Cin, alive for the first time in years, drank it in, desperate for sympathy, compassion, love. All things she'd starved herself of after the disaster, and given so freely by these dear, sweet, kind people. They were her enemies every other day of her life, but tonight, in this hour, she needed them more than she'd ever needed anything else.

* * *

After her breakdown, when she had regained enough composure to eat, they resumed the meal. It was awkward in some ways, but in others, it was a rather sweet moment. They shared stories from their hometowns, or the people they lost, they cried, and they ate good food. Nora had smuggled in a bottle of (absurdly cheap) wine, and they raised a glass to all they'd lost. Had anything in her life been different, had she not been an undercover operative in hostile territory, this dinner would be a treasured memory.

Now, she was helping Jaune clean up the dishes. His teammates seemed to have understood that the two of them had something to discuss and had quickly made themselves scarce.

That, or they just wanted to get out of doing the dishes.

She passed a plate to him to dry, noting that he did it without the usual grumbling she had been accustomed to. He seemed… simply happy to have the time with her. Before, it wasn't uncommon for the sisters to form a united front to force chores onto him. And she _always_ washed dishes, no matter how much Mrs. Arc tried to dissuade her from it. Guest or not, she wouldn't accept charity. It was her one bulwark of pride that, as bad as her life was, she still contributed. But now she had to steady herself, reminders hovering in her mind that that was the past and this _cannot_ last, and that there was no future opposing the Mistress. Her only future was as Cinder Fall. But still, in this moment, she had some issues she needed to address.

"Jaune, what are you doing here?"

He looked at her quizzically, "Studying to be a Huntsman?"

"No," she sighed, knowing this discussion was going to be as hard as anything else she'd said this day, "_Why _are you studying to be a Huntsman, Jaune?"

"To… protect people? To be able to help people in need. You know, like…" _like my father_, she filled in.

"You're going to get yourself killed."

He stiffened at that, but she knew he recognized the truth of her statement. He knew as well as Emerald's report that he wasn't impressive, as loath as he might be to admit it. "I'm," he started carefully, "I'm learning a lot. Pyrrha's helping me train and I'm making a lot of improvement! Cin, I can-"

"Your father was a magnificent hunter," she knew her words were a knife, but it had to be said, "And he died all the same. Even if you manage to make up lost time and keep pace with your peers: it doesn't matter how skilled you are," _especially with what we're planning_, "if you pursue this, _you will die_, Jaune."

He turned to her, his face flush with anger. "Do you think I don't know the risks? I was there, too, Cin. I saw what it's like-"

"I lost _everything!_" she exploded at him and he stepped back, stunned by her intensity. His look of shocked hurt and sympathy was one that used to engender her fury, but here, it brought forth a quiet, sad compassion. She softened, then continued. "I can't… I lost everything, Jaune. And then I discovered that, actually, I _hadn't_. That I still had… I can't go through that again, Jaune. I can't learn that you, that any of you, survived that night, only to go through and lose you all over again."

He stared at her, mournfully, unwilling to admit she was right, but she could tell her words found purchase with him. "I… I have to do this. I know it's dangerous, but I can't… not after what we went through." It was hard to imagine this was the same boy she used to tease mercilessly. There was something… resolute about him, some of his father's spirit poking through. "And you need to talk to Saph. She has to know you're alright."

"I will. But give me time. I'm not ready, not yet."

They walked together to his dorm in silence. There was too much to think about, too many considerations for her to be able to form words, and small talk seemed too cheap for what they'd just been through. He hugged her, and she reciprocated. It was… It was hard to imagine what life would have been like if that night had never happened. But in this moment, she felt like she had an imagination of what it might be.

With a _click_, the door shut, and now she was alone in the hallway, feeling the absence of human presence in a way she hadn't in years.

She knew Emerald was likely watching her by now. The girl was controlled enough that she would have stayed away, for a time, at least long enough to not have seen her breakdown at the dinner, but she definitely couldn't control her well enough to keep her from seeing the aftermath. Curiosity, and, in all likelihood, her own insecurity, would eventually overpower her orders. So she paused, took a breath, and let the mask slip back into place. She took up the role of Cinder Fall, the Queen, the lead conspirator engineering the downfall of Vale. She drew herself up to her full height, twisted her lips into an imperious sneer, and turned to walk away, wearing her haughtiness like a cloak. As far as anyone watching might suspect, the previous display had been the mask, a trick to buy her way into a mark's confidence. Emerald would have no reason to suspect her leader might have had a moment of true weakness.

But for how long? The mask now rested uneasily on her. It felt foreign, strange, not at all like a posture she'd worn for seven years. And worse, she knew the mask had always been for her own benefit as much as to deceive others. Self-doubt, even a second of hesitation, could bring her to ruin, especially with a plan this risky.

If Cinder Fall were to live, then Cin would have to die.

_Or vice-versa_, a small, quiet, dangerous voice whispered in her mind.


	2. Fall Back

She ducked a punch and twisted away from the followup kick. She jabbed out with her elbow, taking advantage of her momentary imbalance, only to find she struck air. The girl had twisted away from her, and Cinder had to quickly block an incoming strike.

She had to admit—the girl _was_ good.

Asking Nikos to join her for a spar was easy enough. In the week after the dinner, the members of Team JNPR, sympathetic do-gooder types that they were, would do practically anything she asked, so moved were they by her hardships. But she suspected this girl had another interest in getting close with her, getting close with someone so dear to her team's leader, and that interest presented a perfect solution to her latest problem.

And it came in good time. She had slipped up, at the dinner, and allowed an element of her childhood, her _weakness_ get the better of her. A fatal error, if anyone had noticed, but she had been lucky. But now, she had to reestablish her control over the situation, and herself, and solving some of her more straightforward problems would help her regain her footing.

This one was simple: she needed to take advantage of the upcoming dance to breach the CTT system. She needed to make an appearance and be visible, so she had an alibi, but also had to be able to slip away without being noticed. Easy enough if she relied on her relative anonymity paired with her underlings running interference.

Except, of course, that she'd stumbled into the center of a social network built around the school's most troublesome members. And, thanks to her unfortunate misstep at dinner, she was, right now, the singular focus of their gossip network. If things continued like this, she'd have someone clinging to her for the entire dance: Jaune for sure, but likely others trying to make sure she "felt welcome." She could send Emerald to infiltrate in her stead, but that would add new variables and new variables, especially this late in the game, were bad.

So she just had to create a new topic for gossip.

"So, about Jaune…" she started carefully, dodging a kick and noting the way the girl tensed as she heard the name, "I just wanted you to know that I've always considered him as something of a younger brother, a younger brother who I thought I lost, and am now feeling particularly protective of." _Time for the kill_. "So… what _are_ your intentions with Jaune Arc?"

Nikos froze, and Cinder had to restrain herself from taking advantage of the opening and socking her in the jaw. _Don't overcorrect_, she reminded herself. Remaining calm and in control would win the day. "I- I-" the girl stammered, blushing furiously. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh? So do you think _lying_ makes-"

"Okay, okay!" Her face was now a furious crimson and she was wholly unable to meet Cinder's gaze. "Its… it's just a crush. Honest! And besides," the color drained from her face as her shoulders slumped and her voice took on a defeated, mournful tone, "he's not interested in me."

"Is that what you think?" she probed, half-teasingly, half-strategically, "Because that's not what I've seen." The girl started at that, eyes practically sparkling at the tantalizing promise just out of reach. Honestly, this whole charade was more than a little pathetic, but pathetic made things easy. She moved closer to the girl and lowered her voice, as though she was protecting some grand secret. "Jaune is… I love him, but he's always been a little… dense. He has _no idea_ that you'd even _think_ of him that way. If you want what you want," she leaned even further forward, almost whispering now, "you need to take the lead."

"I, well, can I be honest with you?" Cinder had to bite her lip to not let the mask slip from open laughter, and focused to just nodding sympathetically. "After… that night, I had a lot to think about. You and Jaune and Ren and Nora—you've all had really tough childhoods. You've all lost so much, and I…" she let it trail off.

"You think you've had it easier than everyone?"

"Yes."

"You have." The girl jolted at her unexpected response. "What? Did you think I'd tell you 'we all suffer in our own ways' or some other paff? I had to hide and listen as my parents died; I lost _everything._ You've never experienced anything like that."

The girl looked down, ashamed. Cinder knew she could crush her right now, go to the heart of her insecurities, undermine her self-confidence, isolate her, amplify her doubts. There was a deep, insidious crack in her psyche that was so obvious, but had apparently lain undetected beneath the praise and tournament wins, perhaps with a touch of parental neglect. But she could see exactly where to dig in and pull it all open. She was in her clutches and Cinder knew she could break her, easily. The violent, hungry part of her said do it. The rational side said she'd be more useful alive.

So she reached over, to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and crouched to meet her downcast eyes. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't _need_ you. You've had a better life than most, but that's not something to resent yourself for. People like us, people like Jaune," she corrected, "he needs someone who can support him. Someone who can be his rock."

"Do you really think I… can be that? For him?" Her eyes were full of pleading and naked desire.

At this, she allowed herself to finally laugh out loud. It was incredible, simply incredible that this girl seemed to have such low self-esteem that she felt _Jaune Arc_ was some unreachable desire. "Pyrrha," she took on the role of the helpful big sister. This, she figured, would be the real payoff: it was one thing to set her up as a distraction, but if Nikos thought of her as someone to go to in a crisis, such as, for instance, being asked to give up her life to become the new Maiden, she'd have an unmatched spy. "If you asked him out, he'd never stop thanking his lucky stars. All you have to do is have the courage to ask."

"I- I will," she nodded, then asserted herself again with newfound confidence, "I'll ask Jaune out. I'm not going to back down now." As she turned to leave, she turned again to say, "Thank you, Cinder," with a hopeful, grateful smile, "I don't think I could have done this without you." Then she left.

Good. One more obstacle out of the way.

She stumbled a little once the girl was out of her sight. Being around her, knowing that _she_ would be the one who would be chosen the successor—it made the incompleteness in her soul ache. She knew being at Beacon was testing her self-restraint, to lurk so close to her reward. To feel it, somewhere nearby, taunting her. It was like a voice in her head, emboldened by her earlier outburst, seeing its opportunity in her loss of control. It tempted her to vicious anger and outbursts, but she knew she had to keep it restrained, lest all her planning was for nothing.

But that was not a concern that would last for much longer. She was close. Her plan was in motion. No one could stop it, and soon, this would all be in the past, a temporary setback, a minor weakness, extinguished like all the others. She just had to maintain control.

* * *

But whatever she felt after her spar with Pyrrha, it was nothing compared to what she was feeling now.

In an office in an abandoned warehouse, she was bracing herself for a much more difficult conversation. There were two directions of preparedness she needed: first, to maintain secrecy and then to maintain composure. The first was crucial: if Ozpin, or, really, anyone, knew of her connection to who she was about to speak to, she was a dead woman. But the latter was much more difficult: whatever threat Ozpin, Ironwood, or all the powers of Humanity could bring to bear, she was far more afraid of what was on the other end of her line.

It took a while to ensure that the line was secure, but once she was confident that all security measures, and their redundancies, were in place, she sent the call, tensing with each ring. And then the screen came to life with the face of Salem, Queen of the Grimm.

She had been human, once. Though maybe that was just a plausible lie. It didn't really matter if it was or wasn't. She was a monster, and that was visible to the naked eye, no stories needed. Her form, that of a beautiful woman of porcelain-white skin, blemished by a crisscross of black veins, seemed to belie her power, but her eyes, two sunken black pits, illuminated with a hellish red, still filled her with instinctual terror.

"My Queen," she lowered her head in the approximation of a bow, "Progress continues with our plan. All is in place for my infiltration of the CCT and Roman's attack from Mountain Glenn." It was strange that this was the one place where she could be truly open about her aims. No code words or passphrases here, since nothing was more incriminating than _who_ she was speaking to. "There has been, however, some news."

"Oh?" It had the tone of honest curiosity, like some dark parody of motherliness. She was surprised to hear there was news, but unalarmed, confident in Cinder's ability to keep things in hand. It was… unnervingly human.

"I have been identified. By a survivor of my village."

Silence reigned between the two of them. Cinder knew her meaning was plain, and Salem was no fool. And yet, she seemed unconcerned by this development, almost bemused by the story.

"You wonder if I lied to you, and that has inspired doubts in your loyalty to me?"

"…Yes." Lying would fail her, she knew that. All of her knowledge of deception and misdirection was trained against humans, not her.

But Salem only smiled, a gesture that, with her unnatural paleness and impossibly black eyes, came across as simply more terrifying. "Cinder… my champion, my greatest student… It is _good_ that you have doubts, that you wonder. I did not want a simple puppet; I wanted a true _killer._" Cinder shifted uneasily at her words. "Yes, I admit, I lied to you. I knew you could never truly become what you had the potential to be if you still had ties to your childhood."

"But why not-"

"Why not finish off those last stragglers? To tell you the truth, it would be _unsporting_." Cinder's stomach twisted in horror at those words. "They'd survived the attack, and I respected their tenacity as survivors. Much as I respected yours."

Unsporting.

It was… it was all a whim. Her personal devastation and heartache wasn't some strategic plot or even an accident of history, it had just been, just been…

Sporting.

The word hung above her like a sword on a string, poised to fall at any moment. Right now, she simply couldn't process the reality that everything she had gone through, what had been lost and what had been found, was because an immortal, inhuman monster had a momentary inclination to fairness. And then _that thing_ lied to her. And raised her, shaped her into being a tool. She felt the string snap and the sword plummet.

"Yes," her words were slow, pointed, and calculated. She could clearly read the shock and pain and rage on Cinder's face, "It was rather cruel of me, wasn't it? But it has given me such a wonderful opportunity to see exactly what you've become."

She felt sick. "I don't- I don't understand."

"You will. When you carry out your mission, when you have become the Fall Maiden, you now will have become so by killing your past. And once you have done that, none could ever doubt your loyalty to me." She clearly noticed Cinder's discomfort, but she did not care. No, worse, she knew that it didn't matter. She knew she didn't _have_ to care. She already knew nothing would come of this.

"…I see." She had no other words. She felt empty. What was there to be done?

"Good. Are there any other problems?"

"No, my Queen."

"You will not fail me, Cinder Fall. I know this. I chose you because I knew you would be stronger than any of my other servants. You, alone, have been chosen for this duty. You alone have the potential."

And with that, the screen went black, and Cinder could only stare at the reflection of her face.

No meeting with the Queen of the Grimm went without consequences. Cinder always felt like she was lucky to have survived after a talk, no matter how well it went or how minor the subject matter. An uncontrollable shudder rolled through her, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. In all her concern with the struggle to identify who she was, the hopeful Cin or the murderous Cinder, she had ignored the greater truth that none of it truly mattered: what made up her mind was fear. The terrible petrifying fear that ran through the core of her being.

Seeing Salem only reinforced that. Cin had been a weak girl, a nothing, beneath the notice of the beasts that devoured her family. That weakness, hidden deep in her past, was a taunting reminder that she could be undone oh so easily, reduced back to that shuddering, sobbing wreck of a girl. And whatever else she might have wanted, she wanted to be free of that. Whatever it cost her, whatever she had to do, she would attain the power of the Fall Maiden. With that power, at last, she could finally loose herself from that weakness. She could finally be free of her past.

A ping from her scroll brought her out of her thoughts. It was a message from a White Fang member she had observing Roman for her in the Mount Glenn operations. It wasn't that she didn't _trust_ Roman, but she knew it was important to keep tabs on her underlings, especially for situations such as these. The message implied that there was discontent fomenting in the ranks, caused by the expected issue: his relentless verbal abuse and undisguised bigotry.

Roman was skilled, but his patience was fraying, especially in the field and _especially_ in working with the White Fang. Everything was further compounded by his obvious hostility to not being the top dog. He needed to be carefully managed, to keep her plans afloat, or else he'd ruin everything with petty infighting. Not on purpose, but… more the sort of subconscious sabotage disgruntled minions were always capable of. It was an easy enough problem to solve, though—a quick call to soothe his ego and let him know that she was keeping tabs on him would let him know to change his behavior and prevent a crisis before it happened.

Or… she could leave him to his own devices. He was a capable criminal, a master planner, if she believed his self-promotion, and surely, not someone so stupid to jeopardize a plan this important because of his emotions, right? A voice in her head told her there was just as much risk in overplaying her hand with Roman as underplaying it. Maybe her judgment on this was off?

She closed her scroll. He'd be fine.

* * *

It was late evening when she returned to her dorm. The weather had become as foul as her mood, and as she trudged through the wind and the rain, she focused her anger on that idiot drunkard who'd interrupted them so many months ago and forced them to take up this stupid plan. If it wasn't for him, she'd already have the Fall Maiden's power, instead of this miserable half-soul growling and grinding inside her. She wouldn't be scraping by as a _student,_ having to bear the indignity of sneaking past teachers to get back to a cramped, barely-furnished dorm she was forced to share with two whining teenagers. It was all that _idiot's_ fault, and she'd be sure to make him pay for this.

Fortunately, the mood in her room picked up her spirits.

Emerald had been extremely helpful ever since the dinner. It was clear why: she feared being replaced as Cinder's favorite. A silly misconception, but a very useful one—Emerald's work had been top notch ever since, and, more importantly, it signaled that the girl had no awareness of Cinder's momentary weakness. She had full dossiers prepared for both Teams RWBY and JNPR, as well as their known associates. Plus, it seemed that she had been successful in her efforts of gaining the trust of the sisters. She was obsequious in her demeanor, and Cinder greatly enjoyed the girl's desperate attempts to curry her favor.

But Mercury's attitude was even better. He was quietly livid, having evidently been pacing the room when she returned. He tried to keep his anger concealed from her, but it was a foolish effort. She felt she could guess the reason, though Mercury was quick to reveal it himself.

"So," he started, with a tone of fake casualness, "there's been an interesting development with Team JNPR. Seems your 'little brother' just made a move on the Invincible Girl." It was clear he thought he was presenting her a bombshell. She suppressed a smirk.

Emerald couldn't resist the chance for a jab. "Mercury's just mad because he thought he'd _totally_ get with Pyrrha."

"I did not!" he snapped, "I'm concerned that this puts our whole operation at risk!"

"Don't worry about it," she waved him off, "And your information's off: _she _asked _him_ out. Good to hear it was successful; I told her to pursue him."

He boggled at that. "Isn't- isn't that crazy risky? Like, everything we have says she's probably the candidate, and he's going to be connected to-"

"Let me worry about that." Her tone was icy enough to silence his objections. "I believe we can consider them both effectively neutralized for now—believe me, he'd sooner die than suspect me of anything, and she's _far_ too fragile to jeopardize her standing in his eyes, no matter what she sees. Besides," she looked to Emerald, "I believe this has taken the gossip mongers off our tail, correct?"

Emerald, happy to be involved and happier still to be undermining Mercury, nodded. "All Team RWBY can talk about, that's for sure. Even got the Belladonna girl off the subject of Torchwick for a minute."

Good. Things were going as she hoped. Teenagers were best handled through more immature means—much like how she managed Emerald and Mercury. She gave them both some instructions—Emerald was to keep an eye, close, but not so close to arouse her suspicious nature, on Belladonna, while Mercury was to get closer to Ren and Valkyrie, the two wild cards of Team JNPR. She, of course, didn't tell him that her concern with Nora Valkyrie was rooted in having relied on her so deeply in her moment of crisis. He just seemed happy to not have to remain close to Jaune and Pyrrha's new relationship. All business settled, she poured herself a glass of wine as her lackeys made themselves scarce. They knew when she wanted the room, and she appreciated the quiet.

For now, she looked out the window, seeing the glittering lights of the city off in the distance. This was… manageable. She could keep the plates spinning, the egos in hand, and her own inner turmoil in check. She didn't get this far to be brought down now.

Her scroll pinged, a message from Jaune. She glanced at it. _Saph's free for a call on Saturday—is that too soon?_

She snapped it shut so fast she almost dropped the scroll.

She took a moment to catch her breath. She was still in control. That could be answered tomorrow. All she had to do was keep everything going just long enough to pull off their plan, and then, _then_, could she breathe. Just a little bit longer, she told herself, just a little bit longer.

She was still in control.


	3. Pride Goeth

This, she had not been looking forward to.

It was Saturday now, and the weekend traffic at the CCT center made her feel crowded, disordered, and boxed in. Not a great start, and the past few days hadn't done much to improve her mood. She looked around, taking a moment to review the various security measures she'd have to overcome in a few days. Guards looked as inept as she had expected—over equipped and overpaid bumblers more placed to keep things running smoothly rather than to defend a globally critical piece of communications infrastructure. It raised her ire to think about it, but she knew she was just trying to bait herself into being angry. She did what she could to calm down her emotions.

There were other things to think about, things not related to covert action. The dance, for one thing. Pyrrha had invited her to join her and Team RWBY for dress shopping, which she had politely declined. The idea of spending an afternoon making polite conversation and cooing over dresses, particularly the kind that was in _their_ price range, sounded unbearable. She had made Emerald go in her stead, which had led to the amusing development that, apparently, Emerald would now be taking Ms. Rose to the dance. Cinder smiled at that; her infiltration of Team RWBY had been going much better than she had anticipated.

But the smile seemed to dissipate back into the oppressive restlessness that seemed to suffuse the atmosphere of the CCT Facility. Seated at a terminal booth, Cinder idly looked over to Jaune, who, obviously, was completely oblivious to her annoyance… and also her anxiety.

She knew some of the story. She knew she was married, she lived in Argus, she had a kid. Each one sounded so… unreal to her that, even though she knew it was true, it was like it was from a story. Saphron Arc couldn't be married, she was only 16! But of course, that wasn't true. That hadn't been true for years. That wasn't even her name anymore!

She did what she could to quiet down the emotions churning inside her. Control, she had reckoned, was out of the question. If Mrs. Arc's bouillabaisse had reduced her to tears, speaking with Saph would _devastate_ her. But she knew, no matter what she felt, it would not change her situation. In short time, she would be back to where she was after the dinner. Emotionally scarred, but only more resolutely, if sorrowfully, committed to her task. She'd spent the last few days reminding herself about that. So why put herself through his? Why not lie, or do anything she could to defer this?

In truth, she _wanted_ this. She wanted to see Saph again so badly it hurt. And that scared her. It would be a fake experience, a delusional lie to both herself and Saph, but she wanted so badly to pretend that she was just the lost girl from her childhood, found at last. She knew it would surely be one of the most painful experiences of her life, and it might even jeopardize her mission. No matter. It would be worth it.

She watched as Jaune fiddled with the receiver, setting up the call, then glanced back to the large clock on the wall. She was seated next to the booth, out of view from the CCT monitor's camera. He'd told her that he wanted this to be a surprise for her, and that worked out fine for Cinder: she didn't want to be sitting in front of that screen, watching each ring, waiting for the pickup, and dreading what she was about to see.

Then she heard the voice.

"Jaune!"

It was Saph. It was Saph. It was Saph's voice, inescapably her voice, though so, so different. Her heart leapt to her throat and lodged there. She couldn't breathe. Her stomach roiled. She leaned forward, and if it wasn't for the fact that her legs felt like they were made of lead, she would have bolted immediately.

"Hey Saph!" Jaune, of course, felt no such anxiety.

"So, what's this 'incredibly huge, super-important news' you had for me?" Oh gods, had he really presented it like that? She had no idea what- she had no idea- all of Cinder's instincts were now screaming at her to run away, but that sense of dread fixed her in place. "Terra bet me 20 lien that it was about getting a date to the dance."

"Uh, no, though I totally _did_ get a date- no, this is too important to wait. I just happened to bump into someone we haven't seen in a long time!"

"Oh, who is-"

Jaune suddenly grabbed her by the arm and practically yanked her into view, where, for the first time in years, Cin saw her best friend.

Incredible. She looked… incredible. After all those late nights of talking about what they'd be like when they'd grown up, and now… she _was_. It took her breath away, to see what was once slim, teenaged potential now shaped into full womanhood. It was undeniably Saph, and yet…

"Cin?" Her voice was weak, trembling, unwilling to believe what she was seeing. "_Cin?_" Her tears were already welling in her eyes.

Her vision blurred, her throat felt thick. "Yeah," her voice came out rough, choked. "It's me."

"Ci- Ci- Cinnamon? It's- it's really you?"

"You're not allowed to call me that!" she laughed through her tears. "I'm a grownup now!"

"You are! Oh gods, I-" they were laughing now, laughing and crying, "I'm a grownup too! I'm _married!_ I have a kid and-" her words dissolved back into that roiling mix of laughter and tears, and Cin wasn't able to do much better. There were no words here; joy alone reigned as they were reunited for the first time in years. This was- there was nothing like this, no depth of fear or strength of hate that could ever compare the sheer ebullient _joy_ of seeing, of knowing, that Saph was alive and Saph was well and Saph was still Saph.

When she finally regained her composure, she wiped away a tear and spoke. "You're still such a crybaby, Saph."

"You were crying too!"

"Was not!" she laughed.

"I had, oh gods, we had a photo of you at our wedding. I can't-" blinking through her tears she looked right at her brother. "Damnit Jaune, I wasn't prepared for this!"

The boy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, obviously not expecting to have been brought back into the conversation. "Uhhh, sorry? I had kind of-"

She shoved Jaune out of the field of view. "Nope, you've had years to talk to Jaune, you're talking to me now!"

"I, you, I just- you have to visit. Oh gods! You have to meet _Terra_!"

"Oh, I don't know," she smiled, playfully, "am I going to approve of her?" They had made an agreement when they were six years old that both of them had veto power over the other's future spouse, and had reaffirmed it counted for girls too when Saph came out to Cin when she was thirteen.

"You better! We already got married and it's too late for you to object!"

"Still have my veto."

"Well, I have a son now, so _there!_" she stuck out her tongue. "His name is Adrian and he expects a lot of late birthday gifts from his Aunt Cinnamon!"

And soon, it was like there had never been an interruption in their history. Just two childhood friends who lived halfway across the planet, enjoying the chance to catch up on their lives. Saph talked about her wife, her son, her job, and what was going on with her sisters. Sometimes, in those dark, painful nights, a flicker of imagining would cross her mind, as she tried to picture what life would have been if the attack had never happened. It was too dangerous to ever truly think about it, but she would, nevertheless, wonder, and…

She knew Saph would end up with someone like Terra. From the way Saph described her, just from the way she said her name, it was clear that she had found someone she loved dearly, someone perfect for her. Someone smart and ambitious and quickly ascending the corporate ladder—but also supportive, funny, and completely devoted to her family. Also, well off—not judging, but she knew that Saph's tastes had always run expensive, and doubted that would change. They used to joke about her marrying her way into the Schnee family, back when they were young. And she had always known that Saph would find motherhood agreeable. As she rambled on about Adrian's life, the cute photos she'd taken and the milestones he'd passed, Cin just listened happily as she soaked up all the history she had missed out on.

When it came time for her to talk about her life, she… was more circumspect in her approach. She talked, a little, about Emerald, a little about a visit she had made to Northern Mistral. She, of course, left out what business she had there, and she knew she was being and sounding evasive. But she wasn't questioned on that. Saph accepted without judgment that someone who made their way through Remnant on their own might have a past they didn't want to speak much about. She was… she was her best friend. After all these years, after everything that happened, she still had her best friend.

As she thought about that, she started to choke up, interrupting Saph as she was excitedly describing every detail about her wedding day. She could have listened to her talk forever, but as she stifled a sob, she saw that Saph was just looking at her, full of compassion. It broke her heart and she just had to say it out loud. "No matter- no matter what's happened," she choked out, "You've always been my best friend, Saph. Always."

Saph's eyes sparkled with tears, but she kept her composure intact. "You've always been- I've missed you so much, Cin. We, we had a table at the reception, for the people who c-couldn't be with us, and I put your pictures next to d-dad's, and," a barest hint of a smile flickered across her face, "I had the photo from the Halloween when you went as a pumpkin."

Her eyes went wide as Saph broke into a cackling laugh. "You were supposed to burn those!" she wailed, "You promised me nobody would ever see it!" She did her best to look cross, but it was impossible to be angry, even if she had been immortalized in that squat, ugly costume her mother made her wear. And she realized something else: right now, she wasn't afraid, either. Fear was as impossible an emotion as anger right now, as suffused as she was with joy, and for the first time in years, she realized that the chains that had so long held her down no longer had any hold on her.

But her friend was a new mother now, and that meant the call couldn't go on forever. As their conversation wrapped up and they moved to their goodbyes, she realized that, as tearful as the call had been, this was, in truth the happiest day of her life. She was happy. Actually, honestly happy, and that simple, pure happiness was enough to overcome any dark or ancient power. She smiled across the continents as she gave her goodbyes. "I've missed you, Saph. So much."

"I just- I love you, Cin. I'm so- I'm just, I'm-" she broke back down into tears.

Not that she was doing much better. "I love you too, Saph," she managed to say, "I'm so happy for you."

"You _have_ to come see us. In Argus. Non-negotiable, you're doing it! I'll make Jaune make you!"

And after a few more goodbyes, Saph disconnected from the call, and, with a click, the screen went black. In that moment, Cin saw her reflection in the glass and it… it was her. That was her. There was no other way to describe it, but she looked at her reflection and saw… Cin. The sensitive, artistic girl who just got done crying her eyes out over a call with her best friend.

Jaune was about to say something, but she cut him off when she threw her arms around him and pulled him into the tightest hug she could manage. "_Thank you,_" she whispered into his ear.

"Domenshinit," he wheezed as she slowly released her grip. "Ugh," he gasped, "How are you, of all people, worse than Nora?"

She laughed, and he helped her up from her seat. The hug was, admittedly, out of character for her, and if any of her associates could see her now… but she also didn't care. Leaving the CCT building, it felt like time had skipped backwards, like the universe had consented to give her a do-over. The late afternoon sun shined and the world smiled with her. She wanted to skip, to swing on lampposts, to do a cartwheel! She wanted to do the things she wouldn't get caught dead doing when she was younger!

Jaune seemed to share her delight as they walked back to the school grounds, an infectious, mile-wide grin on his face. He leaned in, conspiratorially, "You know, next you've got to tell _mom_ you're alive."

She laughed, "Please, I've been enjoying _being _alive, and I'm in no hurry to end that." Her feet felt lighter than she'd ever felt. She was joyful, truly joyful, for the first time in years. Everything was possible and everything was good! Saph was alive and Saph was her friend and she would see Saph again! She couldn't believe that she- _I'm going to murder her brother_.

That thought jarred her back to cold reality, back to Cinder's world of kill or be killed. She felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under her, and suddenly, she was falling through air. There was a rush of terror and horror, quickly overtaken by powerful grief. She could picture it perfectly, Saph seeing as the CCT cut out during the Vytal Festival—of course she'd be watching her brother's team, waiting, anxiously to hear whether or not he survived and then… maybe she'd never learn. Maybe she'd just have to, one day, accept that he was dead, and she'd never learn his fate for certain.

And what would her excuse be? Her anonymity would end with her announcement at the Festival. It would be possible to get Emerald or another to give the speech, but that would signal to Salem and the rest of her inner circle that there was something wrong, some weakness in Cinder that kept her from taking credit for the slaughter.

And she'd know. Even if she had a perfect excuse to get away with it, even if she could perfectly disguise herself as just another victim of another terrible night, she would always know that she was the one who killed him.

There was no way to save Jaune from the coming storm. Not without exposing herself, and even if she could discretely get him away, he would never accept that he hadn't been there when his school fell. He would fight, valiantly, a true hero, like his father—_like his father_ the image of the body and the sword and the crows stabbed into her mind—and, like his father, he would die.

Could she defect? The thought was appealing, but she knew it was delusional. With how easily she was outwitting Ozpin and his lackeys, she knew she would only be siding with the losing team. A noble gesture, but a doomed one. And that assumed they'd _want_ anything to do with her, a serial murderer and terrorist. She knew her half-soul meant she hadn't killed Amber, but… she didn't want to imagine what state someone was in to have half their soul torn from them. And even if it worked, she knew Salem would be certain to ensure Jaune's death if she knew his involvement in her failure. She'd probably be kept alive just long enough to watch.

But in this endless vacillation, from Cin to Cinder and back again, she hadn't stopped to think how little it mattered. The plan was in place—the Queen of the Grimm had decreed that Vale must fall, with or without her involvement. If she failed, another would neatly step into her place. Hazel for sure would leap for the opportunity to bring Ozpin to ruin. Or there'd be another, perhaps one she'd never had the chance to meet before. There were always more ambitious, vile murderers in the world to pick from; she was just the latest in a long line.

Death was everywhere she looked. There were no options. There was no hope. She could die with the rest of Vale, another victim of the Grimm. Or she could survive the plan to live a hollow life, knowing what she'd sacrificed to save her own skin. Neither was better. Neither mattered, really. She didn't want to die. She scarcely wanted to live.

Jaune was saying something, but his words were just aimless nonsense, a disturbance of the air. He stopped speaking and looked at her. A question? It didn't matter. The tears were flowing again, her composure breaking down. A look of alarm on his face.

And then she collapsed.

* * *

She couldn't keep living like this.

She was falling apart. There was no life to live here, on the edge of two betrayals. She could feel the tightrope beneath her fraying as she was pulled between two worlds, two lives, two options. Two deaths. The emptiness inside her _growled_ even as her heart clouded with dread. She'd already made her choice, hadn't she? When she attacked the Maiden, when she accepted the power into her body, when she pledged herself to Salem. These were just delusions of an old life, a ghost of a dead girl's past.

Jaune had walked, practically carried, her back to her room, said something to Mercury… she wasn't sure about what happened next, but she knew she was in her bed. She was certain she looked like a wreck, couldn't imagine what Mercury and Emerald thought of it—probably assumed it was a nervous breakdown, the stress of planning getting to her. She almost had to laugh at the thought, the ruthless, heartless Cinder Fall, brought low by… her childhood nickname.

But what else could have brought her down? Her strength had always been her heartlessness. Her ability to carry out her Mistress's orders without pity or mercy. Everything else, her combat skill, her political instincts, they were just an extension of that central principle. And now it was gone. There was… something in her chest now, something warm and beating and weak. Not strong enough to redeem her, to give her the courage to make her decision and stand by it, but enough to unsettle everything that she was.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and tensed—thinking it a rival's hand finally poised to slit her throat. But the pain never came. There was no sharp cut to finally end her miserable life. It was something much worse.

It was Emerald, seated next to her, looking at her with the sort of look—piteous, compassionate, sorrowful—that would have repulsed and horrified her even a month ago. It was the look you gave someone _weak_, because you were sharing in their weakness. She was certain it was a look _Jaune_ knew all to well, from his simpering partner.

She hated it.

And yet, she did not have the strength to resist it. The anger never flared to life; all she could give Emerald in return was a look of dull incomprehension.

She felt as Emerald squeezed her shoulder, the look on her face obviously suggesting that she was struggling to make up her mind on what to say. "I need you to know," her voice was hesitant, unsure, but with some inner drive that was forcing her to speak, "that I'm loyal to you. No matter what. You… you saved me from the streets, Cinder. I would have been… I don't even want to imagine it, where I would be if I hadn't met you. I know I'm not…" she swallowed hard, "_him,_ but…"

She didn't understand her meaning. Who was she talking—and then it clicked. She wanted to laugh and would have, if her throat wasn't so ragged. Emerald was _jealous_, jealous, of all people, of Jaune Arc! Her best friend's dorky kid brother in the bunny hoodie!

"Jaune's not…" her voice rasped and croaked, unprepared for speech, "Jaune's not… like that. You don't… have to worry… about that," then she gave a harsh, barking laugh.

There was a look of wonderment in Emerald's eyes, like she scarcely believed what she was hearing. It was another unsettling reminder of Pyrrha. She'd almost think she had told Emerald that she reciprocated her feelings from the look on her face, but… would it have been so bad if she had? Emerald had been shaped, molded by Cinder Fall. She was a killer, a ruthless professional criminal, but she was loyal. Extremely loyal, and totally devoted to her. She'd already told her as much. Mercury, for all she knew, was already executing a getaway plan, but Emerald was at her bedside, at her worst, and telling her that she'd never leave.

She was like the glass ornaments she crafted in her parents' shop. Something she'd made, but also something she had to handle delicately, carefully, and rarely, for fear that she'd break her. Something precious, something that was hers and hers alone. All she had to do…

No. She couldn't. She could never. She knew she would break Emerald, as surely as she broke everyone else who'd had the misfortune of trusting her. And as much as she greedily desired to deny what she was and to pretend she deserved her love, she knew, on this one matter, she would not allow herself to be so selfish. Emerald, for all Cinder had done to her and for her, was the only one who knew exactly what she was. The only one she could trust. She could not abuse her trust. She was not Salem, on this, if nothing else.

But she could still console her.

She squeezed her hand. It pained her to watch Emerald's eyes light up… and then become dimmed by sadness as she shook her head _no._ "I'm not… what you want me to be. It will never… I'm sorry."

"It's… okay." Cinder was experienced enough to recognize an obvious lie, and desperate enough to pretend it wasn't. "Guess I got the wrong impression," she joked, mirthlessly "It was kind of sweet to watch him with you. He just… wouldn't leave your side. I practically had to shoo him out of the room." She hadn't realized he had stayed with her. She hadn't realized a lot of things, but this was a painful reminder. The future was fixed, but she knew no nihilism that would make this feel less personal.

But Emerald was looking to her for guidance, instruction. She'd made it clear she'd do whatever was asked of her, for or against anyone else, but she needed Cinder to tell her what to do. Just as surely as Cinder herself needed to answer that question. "The plan goes forward, but…" This was it. She could hold any number of contradictions in her mind, debate between Cin and Cinder, the mask and the persona, but once spoken aloud, once shared with another, she couldn't turn back. "We will get Jaune out. He will survive this. I will never be forgiven, but… he lives."

Doomed or stupid or foolish, it didn't matter. There was only one future, as bloody and horrible as she knew it would be, and all she could do was try to endure it as best she could. Emerald squeezed her hand. "I promise. Just… come back to us, Cinder. I'm not loyal to plans or factions or anything. I'm only loyal to you, and I'll follow you, wherever you go."

She nodded and closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would give some aid or clarity. But then they shot open as she felt Emerald's hand loosen from hers.

"Don't," she pleaded, "stay, please."

_You don't deserve this._ It was callous and cruel to drag Emerald into this, to tease her with this hope for affection, but she knew that, soon, she would lose Jaune, she… would lose Saph. She would have nothing else once the plan was finished. So she gripped her hand tightly, as though afraid she might fly away, and with that small comfort, she drifted off to sleep.


	4. The Center Cannot Hold

She was in control. But only insofar as she accepted she wasn't truly in control.

It had been several shaky days since her call with Saph, time spent recovering her stability and sense of self. She was neither Cin nor Cinder, a situation she knew was unsustainable, but, for now, she handled one problem at a time. She was past those moments of brutal despair, and she hadn't had an episode since, but in its place had come an oppressive moroseness she trudged through. Through that she kept up the slow, steady process of executing her plan, with a lot of reliance on Emerald and Mercury, moving forward on the operation and setting up all the pieces for tonight. For now, her cover held. For now, the plans continued. For now, she focused on the evening alone.

It was the night of the dance, and as much as she hated how public she had to be… at least there would be some reprieve after tonight. Things would get easier once she'd recommitted herself to her work. As she looked over the happy couples on the dance floor, the jealous wallflowers, the awkward stragglers, and the exhausted, harried chaperones, she knew that this, at least, was all in place and how she wanted it to be. With everything else set up in advance, it felt like she could lean on that work to support her sense of self, her identity as Cinder Fall. She took some small comfort in that.

She had passed by Jaune and Pyrrha earlier, but, just as planned, which now felt like half a lifetime ago, the pair only had eyes for each other, barely even a glance to spare for her. Pyrrha looked almost deliriously happy, like she was expecting to wake up from a dream at any moment. If Jaune was even aware of what was around him, Cinder couldn't tell: his eyes were only on her. She snapped a quick photo for Saph, her single allowance for her softer side, and continued on. Let them be happy; they certainly didn't need her tonight.

She felt… good about her involvement in their relationship. Like it was some proof that there was more to her than just these schemes and ambitions. But it was a feeling that came with an insistent, nagging reminder that she shouldn't be feeling like this. Whether because it was unprofessional or because she didn't deserve it, she couldn't say. But as ragged as her persona was, as much as her mask had slipped, tonight was business. She had made up her mind: the plan would continue. She had to stay focused, or all was lost.

She took another opportunity to glance around the room, hoping that retracing her task would help silence the doubts in her mind. She saw Mercury running interference… if she could deign to call it that. He was buzzing between a handful of girls, Ms. Schnee and Ms. Valkyrie among them, Cinder noted, asking them for dances and right now trying to talk his way out of an altercation with one Mr. Vasilias. Drawing attention, certainly, but she suspected he'd have done the same without her instruction. Well enough, she wasn't pushing the matter with him. They still hadn't spoken about her breakdown, about what he saw and where his loyalties stood, but he had been uncharacteristically respectful ever since. Possibly to conceal some hidden insubordination, but she had bigger issues to deal with at present, and would take it at face value. For now.

She spotted Emerald with Ruby Rose by the punchbowl. Good. She had the duty of specifically keeping Team RWBY on lockdown, and they'd ruled that Rose was most likely to interfere with her plans. Fortunately, Emerald had given herself the perfect excuse to keep the girl on a short leash. She smirked a little as she saw how close Emerald was to the poor girl, how daring her dress was, and the powerful blush that seemed to cover Ruby's entire face. Truly, Emerald had learned a lot from her tutelage: Ruby Rose wouldn't have eyes on anything else for the entire evening.

She made idle small talk with a handful of students, politely waving away offers to dance and presenting her usual front of haughty imperiousness. More than enough to scare off most of the students, who, despite their preening, juvenile arrogance, were really just children, unprepared to have their confidence so swiftly punctured. Soon enough, she was free of attention. First task down, now on to the next. Still, on some impulse, she chose to stay awhile longer, observing the dance, giving some more time to be seen and a last chance to watch the antics of her teammates.

And… there was still Jaune. He and Pyrrha had just begun to take the dance floor, and she had to admit: they made an attractive pair. It was hard to picture that this was the excitable little brother she and Saph used to shove into a dress and braid his hair. He was so… different now. His voice had changed, he was tall now, and, in a certain light, she could even see him as a real Huntsman in training. But some things of the old Jaune, at least, still shone through—he was as oblivious as ever, judging from the way his partner was doing everything she could to signal that she wanted him to kiss her, so some things hadn't- oh!

Seems that he could still surprise her on that.

But there still _was_ a lot about Jaune that hadn't changed, with everything he'd done for her since they'd be reacquainted: cooking a family dinner, setting up the call with Saph, staying by her when she was at her lowest. He was still, at heart, the sweet little boy who used to steal candy for her because he thought she was sad. A smile traced her lips as she remembered him and Violet, using the skills they must have learned from some action movie to be "stealthy" as he slipped her a pilfered candy bar and his sister deployed a smoke bomb, to Mrs. Arc's instant fury. In the moment, she felt the thought of what would have been, if the attack had never happened, flicker across her mind, and she felt the pangs of another episode creep at the edges of her mind. But this one was easy to smother in her breast, knowing full well the futility of its pain. Blame the universe all you want; nothing can change the past.

She took that as her signal that she had lingered too long. It was time to make her exit.

"Whoa, heading off so early?"

She turned in alarm, to see the obnoxious face of Yang Xiao Long, yanking her right back to the present. Hell, this one was going to be difficult. Emerald's assessment put Xiao Long at a high encounter and interference risk, not for her intelligence or curiosity, but simply from the way she could stumble, obliviously, right into their plans and be more than loud enough to draw attention they very much did not need—an assessment validated by this very encounter.

She played it cool, and took on a faux-casual tone that suited her demeanor of superiority. "I made my appearance. Now, I'd like to withdraw and watch, see if anyone here might prove to be… up to my standards."

"Need a wing-girl? You've seriously earned it."

"Oh?" This was… surprising. She seemed genuine in her offer, but Xiao Long wasn't as close to Jaune as his team or her sister. Nor was she the altruistic type—Emerald had reported that the girl had destroyed one of Junior Xiong's clubs in a rage when he was unable to provide information she had been looking for.

She seemed happy to explain, though. "I'm a Big Sis myself, and I know what you did for Vomit Boy and P-money." Who? Her confusion only caused Xiao Long to sigh. "Jaune and Pyrrha. Long story with the nicknames—good one, though, you should ask Jaune all about it. Anyways, you got them together, right?"

"Ms. Nikos asked me for advice on a matter, and-"

"Yeah, don't try to play it coy—I know what you did. Pyrrha gave me the details. Well," she gave a thoughtful look, "Pyrrha gave _Ruby_ the details, but she told us, like, _immediately_ told all of us, because she just thinks you're just the bees knees!" Cinder did what she could not to flinch at that—half the corniness, half the unsettling sense that came with being praised so sincerely. But if Yang sensed her discomfort, she barreled on through it and kept talking. "Yeah, it's no wonder, what with Jaune and Emerald talking you up all the time. Guess her Favorite Big Sis is just yesterday's news…" she gave a theatrical sigh, "But anyways, I'm really glad you gave Pyrrha the business: those two have been inevitable since initiation, but _man_ they were taking their sweet time."

"Yes, it seemed like an… optimal pairing for the two."

"Ha ha, bullshit," she laughed and slapped Cinder on the back, "Don't try and pull that 'cynical mastermind' thing with me. Jaune can't keep a secret to save his soul, _especially_ not when my little sister's on his case." Cinder groaned inwardly at that revelation. But Yang had taken on a softer tone, giving her a look that suggested a camaraderie Cinder wasn't sure she'd earned. "Listen, I know all about putting up a tough front for the people who depend on you. I know how hard it is, and I want you to know that you're not alone in this world. Not as long as you're at Beacon." The compassion in her voice was... painful to hear, but fortunately, Yang didn't press the matter as she cut back to her usual, brassy smile. "Now come off it: you got them together because you thought they'd be cute together, not because you've got some sinister plan."

She'd have to give Emerald credit later: she certainly did stumble right into their plans, wholly unaware. Fighting her on this seemed useless, so she leaned in and forced her own smile. "Well, perhaps I do have a softer side."

"See? That wasn't so hard. According to Jaune, you've been putting on this dark and serious front since you were 13."

That… was another surprising thing to hear for a number of reasons, and Cinder was starting to feel nervous with the conversation. She very much did not want to hear more of how Jaune was talking her up to his friends, didn't want to know how high she was in all their esteem, especially while she was in the middle of executing a massive betrayal on them. And in terms of that plan, Xiao Long would be hard to shake and, worse, she was a loud personality, with a tendency to ensure all eyes in the room were on her. But Cinder had begun to realize that none of those was what she was really worried about. The biggest risk in this conversation was how artfully, yet accidentally, the girl's words seemed to pry at her stability, making her think about her childhood, or worse, her ability, even now, to be kind. To be _Cin._ She needed to go. Now.

"Well, one 'Big Sis' to another," she gestured back towards the dancers, "I've noticed that Emerald's hands have… drifted a little."

"Oh, _hell_ no!" Her eyes flashed red with an intensity that made even Cinder step back. "Not with my little sis!" Yang shouted as she stormed off.

Cinder breathed a sigh of relief even as she smirked. If Emerald did her job right, Ruby and Yang's focus would be drawn away from her, and they could certainly be noisy enough to keep everyone else's attention away as well. She slipped out of the hall and hurried over to her target. Things were proving to be more difficult than she anticipated, but, she reminded herself, that had all been interpersonal matters. Getting away from the dance, away from people, would help her stabilize.

As she broke away from the floor and slipped into the darkness of the school grounds, she quickly switched into her catsuit. She wasn't a fan of the new design she had to go with—the goggles felt clunky and she enjoyed the plunging décolletage of the original design. What was the point of being a master _femme fatale_ if you can't look the part? But with so many more people knowing her face than she originally planned for, it was far too much of a risk to rely on the old design as cover. Besides, a change of clothing was good for her. Covering her face made her feel, well, unlike herself. Made her feel giddy.

Made her feel like a killer again.

* * *

With a few keystrokes, Cinder finished inserting the virus that would effectively cripple the entire Atlas force in Vale. She only had to access one lightly guarded terminal and now she had neutralized the biggest threat to their plans. Hard to believe that a glaring weakness could be so obviously present in the system, but she was happy to take advantage of it.

And, she supposed, it made perfect sense. The forces that opposed Salem were at once over-confident and incompetent, and on top of that, more disunited than even her faction. She may have thought that Watts was a blowhard and Tyrian an idiot, but Ironwood and Ozpin could be set at each other's throats at a moment's notice and they _liked_ each other. But they were so utterly caught up in their own sense of strength that of course they would blunder into traps like this. And it was just too impolitic to even suspect this might even be a weakness. After all: the Grimm didn't care about signals intelligence, so worrying about that meant admitting you were afraid of your fellow man.

It underscored how foolish the idea of defection was. Salem was an inhuman monster, but one with a singular _will_ that bound her side of the conflict together. Her victory was inevitable, and once Vale had fallen, the Kingdoms would swiftly turn on each other to save their own skins. Really, with Lionheart, they'd already started turning on each other. All you could do in the face of this power was to grab what footholds you could and save the ones-

She heard a sound. Barely, faintly, but it was still a sound out of place. Footsteps, muffled, but still just audible enough for her hearing. Someone who knew how to hide and was-

Of course. Belladonna. She could have smacked herself.

She had gotten sloppy—the inevitable consequence of her emotional state, she supposed—she had been worried about Rose and Xiao Long when the biggest threat had always, obviously been the girl actively investigating them. She could have sworn she had seen her at the dance with a Faunus boy, the one Roman had trouble with, but, whether she was misremembering or if things had changed over the course of the night, it didn't matter.

Either way, a lucky option. Anyone else would have called for help or otherwise raised the alarm. Would have swallowed their pride. Belladonna meant no backup.

She jerked to the right, a blade swinging just barely past her ear, then leapt away, flinging glass shards behind her and forcing the girl backwards. Overconfident, Belladonna had seemed to think she could win this with surprise alone. Not an unexpected approach—Cinder had reviewed her encounter with Roman and knew her strengths and her fighting style, and that made her fairly confident she could manage the Faunus girl without too much trouble.

Face to face now, she smirked as Belladonna tried to order her to surrender, but there was a note of uncertainty in her voice, a reverberation of realization that she'd underestimated her opponent. In a swirl of flames, she called Midnight to hand, elegantly shaping the glass into…

All at once, her mind was flooded with thoughts of glassblowing, remembering the feel of shaping molten glass at the end of a blowpipe, and the small, secret pride she felt as she took all her miseries and shaped them into something beautiful and precious—a momentary distraction that was enough to give her opponent an opening as she charged forward. Now on the back foot, Cinder had to move quick to deflect a blow. The girl was skilled, but she knew she was the stronger of the two. She hammered her on the counterattack, happy to see the girl's surprise at the force she was struggling to hold back.

Time to go loud. Leaping backwards, she switched Midnight to its bow form and loosed a volley of arrows at the girl, who dove for cover as the explosions shook the entire room. Forced into retreat, Belladonna had to look away, giving Cinder an opportunity to make her disappearing act. But… adrenaline was surging in her veins, she felt her heartbeat _pulse_ in her ear, and the dark, twisted _thing _in her soul howled for blood. This was her chance. She readied another attack, and relished the opportunity to-

Then she heard a _ding._

The elevator doors opened, further distracting her opponent and giving her another window to make her escape. She didn't have to wait for the third opportunity—silently chastising herself for losing her self control, she made her break away from the room.

* * *

From there, evading the security team and slipping back to the dance was almost comically easy. Atlesian overconfidence in grand displays of power had, once again, proven to be her best friend in this endeavor. She glanced around the room, which had thinned out a little in her absence. She spotted Mercury, right in the midst of backing away from a transcendently livid Ciel Soleil. She smiled—it was bound to be a good story—and approached him.

"No luck with Soleil? I suppose I could spare you a pity dance."

She was surprised when he laughed at that, apparently still in high spirits. "No luck with Polendina, actually, but her _chaperone_, or whatever she thinks she is, made sure I knew to back off. But yes, I suppose I could deign to accept a pity dance," he extended his hand to her, in what she was sure he thought was a gallant manner, which she accepted, and they moved to dance.

Once they were sure nobody was listening in, he whispered to her, "Care to start with the gossip, or is there business?"

"Situation's handled. Network breached." Then she narrowed her eyes at him. "Encountered Belladonna on the way."

His eyes widened in alarm. "What? Wait, are you telling me this to-" he traced his thumb across his throat. She shook her head _no._ "Well, that's a relief, I'd much rather enjoy the rest of the night."

She narrowed her eyes to a glare. His aloofness was not endearing right now. "Is there a _reason_ she was able to slip from your notice?"

He shrugged. "I thought she was as out of the picture as the rest of her team. Emerald had Ruby and Yang taken care of, Weiss… seemed to have really enjoyed watching her boyfriend tell me off," he narrowed his eyes and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial low, "Once we get a chance to really cut loose, I wouldn't mind starting with him, but they're focused on each other right now. Blake, though, she left the floor in a huff earlier—slapped her boyfriend on the way out, so I figured she was headed back to her dorms to cry about it."

"Well, your brilliant insight into the female mind seemed to have failed us tonight. But where _is_ Emerald?" It was odd that she wasn't on the floor, even if she was tasked with keeping the sisters distracted, rather than making an appearance. She'd become reliant on Emerald, and moments like this made her very aware of that.

"Oh? That _wasn't_ on your orders?" Mercury had the infuriating look of someone delighting in holding this information over her head. "Because she asked me to run a bit of interference with Yang, to uh, _you know_ with Ruby."

"Wait, _what?_" That was… dramatically beyond the scope of what Emerald had been assigned to do. A nervous tingle began in her spine, a primal fear that maybe Emerald wasn't as dependent on her as she had thought.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I was just teasing. It was nothing _that_ far. Just snuck off from the dance with her, probably to sneak cookies from the cafeteria, or some other adorable misadventure." His tone clearly conveyed his distaste for... she wasn't sure. Emerald? Ruby? The innocence of it all? "If you ask me, judging from how Emerald described their 'date,' I think we need to start stocking insulin. But as for tonight, I don't think Ruby's mature enough to mentally process even making out, _and,_" he teased, "I don't think Em's the type to cheat on you."

"You're testing my patience, Mercury," she kept her voice above a snarl, "If you think what you've seen gives you advantage over me, you're welcome to test your luck, but-"

That seemed to throw him off balance. "I'm-! It's not-! Emerald… alright, let's just say she had a _real_ big trump card on me you didn't know about, and she cashed it in that night. Told me that we were square if I was willing to act like nothing had happened. And... if she was willing to let something that big go, I realized that this was, you know, something serious. The sort of thing where you don't take advantage of it." He shrugged, in a casual way, but he had never been a great liar. "I'm not a total asshole, you know?"

"I can pretend to believe that."

"I'm serious!" He sighed, "When I saw… what happened, yeah, I thought some things about it, but I realized…" they were dancing so slowly now, barely shuffling their feet. To outsiders, this must have looked like a very romantic moment. Certainly like an intimate one, which, Cinder considered, it sort of was. "I realized I was thinking like my dad. The voice in my head sounded the way he used to talk to me. And as kill-or-be-killed as this world is, I'd much rather die than become anything like him."

"Like a professional assassin?" she snipped.

And yet, he didn't rise to it. "Come on, Cin, think I don't know this game? You're worried that when people are being nice to you, it's all going to go wrong, so you start being a jerk. You're trying to piss me off on purpose so you won't burn me by accident. You might be a better liar, plotter, fighter," he twirled her and pulled her back, "but that is _my_ move. I mean it! We're a screwed-up bunch, and that means we've got to keep an eye on each other. Team Evil's still a team, after all. We've got to have each others' backs, or else the good guys win."

"And we can't have that," she murmured.

"No," he smiled, "we sure can't."

They danced together for a while longer. Intellectually, she knew this was for her alibi, but in this world of deception and intrigue, she could pretend, for just a little longer, that nothing was wrong, and everything in the world was just right. Mercury pulled her close and now she was looking over his shoulder and realizing they were dancing right next to Jaune and Pyrrha, the young couple still lost in each other's eyes. In another world, another lifetime, maybe she would be… but no, there was nothing to be found that way. Everything was fixed, and there was nothing to gain from hurting herself. Again and again, she reminded herself of that fact.

_Or else the good guys win_, she thought, _or else the good guys win._


	5. Ignition

**CW: Suicidal Ideation**

It had been a week from the dance, and she was enjoying dinner at one of Vale's finest restaurants. It was not an uncommon place for her to dine—the food was exquisite, the service discrete, and the doors closed to most of society—but this was an extremely uncommon visit for her.

Because this time, seated across from her was an extremely out-of-his-depth Jaune Arc.

As the waiter approached, he awkwardly reached for the menu, only to be stopped with a gesture. "I will order for the both of us," she said, and then proceeded to place their orders. The most expensive items on the menu, not that Jaune knew.

As the waiter left, Jaune stared at her in amazement. "Wow, Cin, I just… this place is, like, Weiss-level fancy! And the host guy already knew you!"

"The _maître d'hotel_," she corrected, "and it's his job to act like he already knows me. And I'm doing alright for myself because…" she paused, trying to think of a workable lie. "I had to adapt after, well, what happened. Took up a lot of odd and risky jobs, and I worked my way up from there. I've not always been proud of the work I've done, but it paid very well, and," she added with a contemplative note, "well, it brought me here."

"Wow." He seemed humbled by her answer, "You know, Dad always used to tell us you were going places."

"He… did?" That had been a surprise. Her encounters with Augustin Arc had been fairly few, mostly hearing him make mortifying dad jokes at the dinner table, much to Saph's horror. He'd always been a good and supportive father, of course, and she deeply envied Saph for that—not that she would have ever told her. "I never really thought Mr. Arc- your father had much to say about me."

Jaune laughed. "Oh yeah, all the time. Violet and I got compared to you at lot—he'd always be saying things like 'Keep an eye on Cinder, kids. That girl's got an iron will, and that counts more than anything else in this world,' usually after we started complaining about having to do sword drills. He'd be really proud of you." She nearly choked in alarm, but Jaune was too caught up in his nostalgic wistfulness to realize it was anything other than modesty. "No really, you've gone from all the way down at the bottom, and now you're eating at places like this!"

She tried to laugh it off and change the subject. "Well, it's the best Mistralian seafood you can find outside Mistral. On that note, you should probably not tell your partner_ exactly_ where we ate tonight." She sipped her wine and chuckled. A light, almost playful red, from a good Vacuan vintage—she'd have to give her compliments to the sommelier. "Or Ms. Belladonna, for that matter."

"Hey, um, speaking of Blake, I just thought you should know," his tone was hesitant, awkward. Clearly, he had bad news, which raised a tremor of alarm in her throat. "It's really nothing, but you should probably know—Blake's been, I dunno, saying some really, uh, out there stuff about you? But don't worry!" he was quick to interject, "Pyrrha had a talk with her about it, and Yang's told me that you really don't have to worry about it."

Pyrrha Nikos had stepped in to cover for her? Her plan had paid off more than she'd ever anticipated. And it suggested that she had Xiao Long in her corner, too. That… didn't set well with Cinder. She didn't want her plan to _fail_, but she knew every additional inch of success was at Jaune's expense. What would happen to him when his friends realized what he brought into their lives?

"And I don't want you to get mad at Blake!" He was correcting himself, trying to not make anyone the bad guy, even as he spoke "She's been really crazy stressed out with Torchwick and the White Fang and the attack on the CCT—she actually engaged the intruder, you know!" _Really. I had no idea,_ she mused. So the disguise had failed, perhaps due to Faunus senses, perhaps due to being a woman of the right build meeting a girl with a suspicious mind. "She's usually really nice and she's a really good person. Really, she's… kind of a real hero, if you knew her story," the admiration he clearly held for the girls of RWBY was obvious on his face, "I just, please Cinder, don't judge her too harshly. We're all on your side."

She couldn't suppress a twitch at that, though he hardly noticed as he rambled on about how Blake was a tireless fighter for Faunus rights. _You idiot. You imbecile. She's saving your life!_

He could never survive in this world. He was too loyal, too compassionate, too soft. Belladonna had figured it out, even if she couldn't prove it, and he was doing everything he could to thwart her because he was too naïve to realize that he was in incredible danger. But even as he was doing this, his biggest concern was making sure everyone could be friends.

It was maddening, and it clawed deep into her to think of how _vulnerable_ he was. But it also strengthened her resolve for getting Jaune away from Beacon. Emerald had devised the plan—a faked message supposedly from his mother reporting a sudden, severe illness. Jaune, the dutiful son, would of course rush back to his hometown and miss, thus surviving, Roman's attack on Vale. He would return to the devastation, and Cinder would have a long talk with him about whether this was a life he still wanted to pursue. His team would be an obstacle, but, if Roman did his job even half well, there'd be a very grave counter example of the reality of being a Huntsman.

It would be coming soon, too. Sooner than she liked to imagine. While her earlier instincts had proven correct, and Roman's attitude _had_ caused some setback, the man was smart enough to swallow his pride when his life was on the line, and had gotten the system back on track without Cinder's interference. But there would still be a delay, on account of Emerald getting the tip-off that Team RWBY would be shadowing a Beacon teacher in the area, so Roman had been given the order to lie low. Cinder was of two minds with this: the sooner this ended, the better, but if the plan were to fall apart without… No, that was a foolish hope, a hope that would only leave even more ruin in its wake.

But the plan that had seemed so foolproof felt shakier now, particularly with Jaune. Emerald's estimations had seemed sound when she pitched it, but now, hearing as he continued to defend his friend, she felt… uncertain if Jaune was as soft as she first guessed. As their food arrived, and they began to eat, that uncertainty continued to swirl in her mind.

"Jaune, I have a… question for you."

"Shoot!"

"If you had a mission, and knew it was certain death for you and your team, what would you do?"

From the look on his face, she would have thought she'd punched him in the teeth. He reeled back a moment, eyes raised in alarm… and then they went downcast, as he gave a rueful laugh. "Back to the question you asked me that first night, huh?" It took her a moment to remember. It felt like a lifetime ago, or at least, as though neither person here was the same person they were that night. She hadn't thought of Jaune as a resolute, even authoritative, team leader, but that was what she was undeniably speaking to now. "I'm not suicidal and I'm delusional, Cin. I _know_ this is dangerous work. But I have to ask: are we still helping people, in this," he swallowed audibly, "_situation, _if we have to die, are we doing so to save others?"

She looked down, knowing the anwer. "Yes."

"We'd carry out the mission." His voice was low and grave. There was no false bravado here.

"It's not just you we're talking about here, Jaune. This is about your team, about Pyrrha!"

His voice grew quiet as he answered. "I… know that, I think about that a lot, Cin."

"And if they lived and you'd died, what then, Jaune? You _know_ what it's like to lose-"

"Cin!" She was surprised he was able to cut her off, but yielded to him. "I know, alright? I know. But it's not like… Listen, since I was a kid, I always wanted to be a Hunstman. Going out into the unknown, saving people. I just… wanted to be like Dad. And then…" he paused, the hurt of the memory flashing across his face, "after the attack, I still wanted to be a Huntsman, but… I didn't want to think about it a lot, you know? Like, I wanted to be strong and not afraid of anything, but anytime I did any research into what it's actually like to be a Huntsman, I just… I would get scared. And so I didn't do it. But when I got here, I had to confront that being a Huntsman means I'm going to," he swallowed hard, "See a lot more places like our village."

"Jaune, that's just more reasons for you _not _to be at Beacon."

"Nobody can hide from this, Cin. I- seeing you again, it reminded me of that. I may have come here for the wrong reasons, but now that I _am_ here, I can't leave. Because this work is just too important for me to run away from."

"It's not running away, Jaune! Nobody would blame you if-"

"And because Pyrrha believes in me!" He blushed at the attention his shout brought. Or maybe just from thinking about Pyrrha. "It's… she's really just incredible. Someone who's worked her whole life, who never looked away, like I did, when things got tough. And if she thinks I can become a real Huntsman…" his blush grew even more furious as his voice dropped almost to a whisper, "I just want to become someone as great as she thinks I am."

With those words, Cinder was suddenly overtaken by the memory of sparring with Pyrrha and her fears that she was the dilettante among her team. If only they saw what they saw in each other, if only they could realize how easily they could escape their fears, their insecurities in _each other_. And yet, she was… proud of him. Proud of him for finding someone who could support him and who he could support. And she had to admit, she felt the stirrings of pride for his development as a Huntsman. He'd had a practice match with Yang in combat class recently. He lost, handily, but he did far better than she would have expected. Nearly held his own for a while with a potential Maiden candidate, which, for someone who had no right to even set foot on Beacon grounds as more than a visitor, spoke to the speed at which he adapted as a Huntsman.

Jaune rambled on about some argument between Nora and Yang, but once again, she was only half-listening. She loved him, she realized. She loved him as though she was his sister in truth. Even if only admitting it in the silence of her mind, it felt like a thunderbolt to realize it. She loved Jaune and she loved Emerald and she loved Saph. She loved and was loved. It was a truth about her that could not be denied, as much as Salem thought she controlled her, as much as the world's cruelty strove to tear it away. There it was, etched upon her soul.

But what redemption could be found in a futile love? She was damned, all the same.

* * *

After the bullhead touched down at Beacon and Cin had parted from Jaune, a familiar moroseness settled upon her. She wasn't sad or afraid or angry, just… morose. Like emotions had been switched off in her mind, and all that was left was the dull ache of a near decade of pain and a half soul grumbling inside her. She braced herself on a railing, overlooking the school grounds and feeling the chill of the night breeze. It had only gotten worse since the dance, with every report from Mountain Glenn confirming that the day of the attack was marching inexorably closer. She looked down, the drop feeling infinite, the darkness impenetrable.

Her scroll beeped, a message from Mercury. He was in Vale, coordinating with the White Fang cell still in the city. Little more than letting her know that things were going as planned… followed by seven more texts where he gave his full opinion on the quality of the burger joint he'd gotten dinner at. Scathing. It ought to have cheered her up, and she knew that was his intent, but… she was too tired for it. Emerald, she knew, was with Ruby. She hadn't been told, but she knew it. At the dance, they had stayed up all night together, just talking. Emerald had insisted that she'd said nothing that might compromise their cover, but that was the last thing Cin was concerned about.

Though she didn't really know how she felt about it. Afraid that she'd lose her closest companion? Jealous of Ruby, or maybe Emerald, for being able to have such a relationship? Or did she fear what she knew she was putting Emerald through, setting her on the path of her own breakdown in miniature? One night, she'd seen the two of them looking… looking to all the world like a normal pair of students, and she wished so dearly, praying to gods she knew did not listen, that, for their sake, it could be true.

She felt like crying. It would probably help. Not here, though. She couldn't afford to compromise herself here. She just needed to get back to her room.

"Something on your mind?"

She snapped to attention, startled back to life, and turned to see who it was. Her heart sank as she realized exactly who she was up against. Headmaster Ozpin. Her unknowing opponent in this game of chess.

"Sorry to have startled you. I'm told," he sipped his coffee, "that I have a tendency to sneak up on people. Glynda will give me an earful on it, later, I'm sure."

"Good evening Headmaster, and," she took a deep breath, steadying her response, "it was my fault. I've had… quite a bit on my mind recently."

She watched him warily, even in her state of emotional exhaustion, she knew that even the slightest mistake with this man was life-or-death. But he seemed unaware, at most, good-humored, but she knew much of his attitude was a front for… something else. She wasn't quite sure what lurked behind those glasses, but he had his own agents, his reach was long, and even Salem seemed to consider him the real power aligned against them. Though, even now, Cinder couldn't really say _why_. Especially now, with his scarf fluttering in the night breeze. "I would imagine so, from what I've heard. To hold on in the face of such adversity, to lose so much and to make that loss your reason to become a Huntress, well," he chuckled, "You're quite the inspiring woman, Ms. Fall. But in your story… I must admit, nothing makes me prouder as Headmaster of Beacon than when I hear of my students proving themselves to be compassionate, kind individuals. Beacon's the better for having you visit."

Was that turn of phrase an accident? Was he _taunting_ her? She gave him a skeptical glance, "I… appreciate the words, Headmaster." He clearly was trying to lead her into conversation, and she very much wanted to close off that avenue and get back to the relative safety of her room. "But I do value my privacy on this matter."

"Wholly understandable. Though I do admit, we have been keeping an eye on you, specifically."

"You're spying on me?" The note of outrage that crept into her voice was partially reflex, partially genuine anger. She was in no place to judge, but she knew that Jaune and his friends deserved a school that wasn't spying on them, even if he might have been accidentally correct in keeping her under surveillance.

But he didn't rise to the accusation. "Does it count as 'spying' if it's mostly Ruby Rose telling me everything about her day, unprompted?"

"She… does that?"

"Early in the semester, she came to me for advice on leadership, and now, I think, she just thinks of me as someone she can talk to." He shrugged, but Cinder couldn't quite read his expression: whether he enjoyed her company or the benefits of her spying, she wasn't sure. "Whatever her reason, she has quite a bit more insight into the workings of the school than you might think. Certainly more than she realizes. Though..." Great, he was rambling now. Perhaps he truly was just an aging fool. "I've long found that the least of this world can be counted on where even the greatest fail. As Headmaster of Beacon, and Host of this year's Vytal Tournament, I have the opportunity to see some of the finest young men and women from all across Remnant. People of selflessness and heroism. People like-"

"Jaune." She wasn't sure she meant to say that aloud or not. But it was true. He was weak, an unskilled fighter, and hardly the best student in his year. The best praise she had for his ability was he didn't lose as badly as she might have expected in his last fight. But she knew he would, without question, sacrifice everything for others. For his team, for civilians… for her. If they didn't get him out of Vale before they could launch the Breach, he would undoubtedly fight, and undoubtedly die, for his city. As youths, they had suffered the same tragedy, but from what had bloodied them both, that fear that had defined both of their lives, had produced two very different people.

But Ozpin merely chuckled at her answer. "Yes, I must admit, Mr. Arc has impressed me more than even I expected. But in truth, I was speaking about you, Ms. Fall. You have a certain… essential qualification over him. We've been looking for someone like you, you know." She knew what he was saying was important, his tone had taken a turn to the grave, but to her mind, it was just an empty, dull drone that slowly wore her already-tested patience down. "There are opportunities for people of your resourcefulness and ability to serve the people of Remnant in a… higher way. And what I've heard from Ruby and Jaune, your teammates, even from Leonardo, tells us that you're the sort of person we've been looking-"

She couldn't take it anymore. "I'm sorry, Headmaster, I just- I have a lot on my mind right now."

He gave her a warm, understanding smile. "Of course. Please, have a good evening. Though I would like to speak with you about this more, later."

There was something deeply funny about this exchange. They had been, in total secrecy, plotting each other's destruction for months, and finally they meet face-to-face, and… it's this. If she was in a better place, she might have enjoyed it. She would have had a good laugh about it to herself, but once again, when it wasn't time to perform her mind went… it was like she was on emergency power. She just wanted to get back to her room and sleep.

* * *

As she walked back to her room, the halls of Beacon, normally a hive of buzzing activity, were quiet and empty. It was good, in that it meant she wouldn't have to manage another unexpected conversation or maintain her air of imperious disdain. She could just be tired and… empty. So she appreciated the school's seeming solidarity with her in this, if only this, moment.

She unlocked her door. This had gone on too long. It had _all_ gone on too-

Her room had been ransacked.

Drawers pulled out of dressers and their contents dumped on the floor. Their desks had been pulled open, papers scattered everywhere. A ceiling tile out of place, obviously to check for a cache that might be hidden there. The intruder had even made a point to slash a deep cut into her mattress. Nothing incriminating would turn up in any of those places, she was far too careful to let that happen, but she did note her computer was missing. That could be trouble, if they knew what they were doing.

If Mercury had betrayed her, he would have known where to look, and he'd also know to be discrete in his theft. Ozpin's group would be careful not to tip their hands that they suspected her, even if they did have a smoking gun. A theft this amateurish and, frankly, immature could really only be blamed on one person.

Well, it seemed that Pyrrha and Yang's message of trust and friendship _hadn't_ gotten through to her. Blake Belladonna still wouldn't be that much of a threat, though. She didn't know what she was looking for, and it would be easy enough to play the innocent victim. She may have taken her computer but it wouldn't be enough to-

Wait. Had she encrypted it? So many things had become too… burdensome recently, her normally careful and precise routines left in tatters. She hadn't bothered to consult her notes recently, not since having to give Torchwick his instructions to lie low. But had she remembered to follow protocol? She had always known that the record keeping necessary to keep an operation this large and spread out on the same page had been their vulnerable heel, so surely she must have…

She chuckled to herself. Of all the things to bring her down, of all the minor acts of unconscious self-sabotage, had she simply… forgotten to log out and encrypt the files? It was so sloppy, she had to have done it on purpose, and yet she'd just… forgot. It had all become just… too much work for her, with everything going on, and she couldn't muster up the energy to even bother. Maybe, subconsciously, she sabotaged herself, or maybe she was just a depressed wreck who just neglected basic security measures. Whatever the reason, Belladonna must be thinking she was a total hack of a criminal mastermind, she wryly mused to herself.

She pulled out her scroll and texted Mercury and Emerald a short message about getting a late meal. A code phrase, their predetermined message to indicate "Cover compromised, abandon ship." They were all on their own now, and if they were smart, they'd go to ground. She ought to make an effort, too, even if she'd already been compromised. The Belladonna girl had never been the best investigator and would probably be slow to effectively get her message to Ozpin's lackeys, perhaps even preferring to, once again, confront her alone, but… she just didn't feel like running.

She'd lost. Game over, she would soon be in a cell buried somewhere deep beneath Beacon, or taken to Atlas to some top-secret military prison. Or maybe they'd just kill her. Ozpin's enforcer, the drunk, probably wouldn't mind doing the deed—might even jump at the chance to claim she refused to be taken alive and get his revenge. No one there would shed a tear for her, and besides, they needed the soul.

So she did what seemed appropriate and wandered out of her room, shutting the door behind her, and idly ambling her way through the halls. No place seemed particularly better than any other to await her impending arrest or execution, but she didn't want to sit and wait for it. She'd waited damn long enough, through all those moments of desperation. She had no desire to endure another. So she walked, past the dorms, the gym, the classrooms. Wandered her way around the empty halls of Beacon until she found her way to the roof. Didn't go there on purpose, but, well, seemed appropriate enough once she got there.

She sat on the edge of the roof and looked out, over the Emerald Forest, and the sparkling lights of Vale beyond. Perhaps she knew why she came here. Perhaps it was time to fall on her sword, hurl herself from the roof, deny her enemies the satisfaction of capturing her? Maybe it was the dignified way to end things, to let that impenetrable darkness take her and leave her life an unsolvable mystery, to end things on her own terms.

No. She stepped back from the ledge. Not like that. Pride wouldn't let her, or fear, or the way the thought of Jaune and Saph and Emerald learning she took her own life filled her with such a great and terrible sadness. Whatever it was, it fixed her to the roof. Her end was coming, soon, inevitably, but it would not be by her hand.

It had to end eventually. She'd done too much to ever back down, not any other way. She'd known this from that very first night, standing outside Jaune's dorm and feeling the mask crumble around her. She had chosen to allow Cin to live, and, in doing so, condemned herself to death. At the hands of Ozpin's lackeys or silenced by Salem; it didn't matter. But this was the better way. To continue any further and more people would get hurt. This way, Vale would survive, Jaune would survive, even if it was only for a little bit longer. Her death would… It was better this way. It had to be.

She looked out into the darkness, and waited.


	6. Cinder's Fall

**Raising the story's rating to M for this chapter**

**CW: Graphic Violence and Suicidal Ideation**

She was a killer. A murderer. A saboteur whose plans, she well knew, carried body counts.

There was no denying her past. There was no way around the simple truth, the reality of her person. There was blood on her hands, directly and indirectly, and nothing, no matter what she'd been through, no matter what childhood memories or regrets might have come to her, would ever justify it. And for all she had already done, she planned far worse. A massive attack on innocents that was merely the opening salvo for a follow-up that would leave one of Remnant's few truly thriving cities in ruins and set off a panic around the world. Thousands would be dead in Vale alone. Thousands more would be dead worldwide. And it was all in the service of an ancient monstrosity's quest for power.

She had killed on her Mistress's orders, but also for advantage, in anger, or because her victims were merely unlucky. And even if she acted with good reasons, it would make her no less a killer, and her reasons were never good. She deserved death. If there was any justice in the world, surely, she would be finally be facing it.

And her enemies now knew the full extent of that truth. Branwen, Ozpin, Ironwood… one of them would be here any moment. Or maybe just a platoon of faceless soldiers. But as she heard the door slam open and the orderly, forceful _clip_ of the footsteps marching towards her, she realized it was none of those who had come for her.

She turned to face Pyrrha Nikos, illuminated in floodlight glare, fully armored and, yet, seeming more vulnerable than ever. She froze at the door as they made silent eye contact across the roof for a few seconds, her face unreadable. Then she spoke.

"Tell me it's not true."

Her words practically quivered with desperation, hurt, betrayal, but she had no words to answer her. Shame crushed her heart in her chest. She had expected violence, rage, but not this. Pyrrha advanced across the roof. "Cinder, please. Tell me it's not true, it's fake or blackmail, that you're not _like that!_ Cinder, _please!_"

All Cin could give her was a slow, almost lazy look—and then shrugged.

Wrong answer. Pyrrha was upon her in a flash, hands gripping the front of her dress and pulling her almost off her feet. She had never truly realized before what it meant that the girl, even at 17, was half a head taller than her and was definitely not in her weight class. This wasn't the silly teenager of their spar—this was a professional fighter, a generational prodigy, someone who, even if not a killer, spoke violence just as fluently as she did. And now her face bore the color of anger, of wounded pride and a brawler's fury. A slight tinge of alarm triggered in her subconscious as Pyrrha practically hissed, "He's fighting for you, right now. Blake showed us everything and he's _still_ fighting for you. We've seen the plans to, to…" She couldn't finish the sentence, but Cinder knew all too well what she had seen.

Breaching Vale from Mountain Glenn, estimated casualties likely in the hundreds, possibly even the thousands. All as a setup to the real plan, to shatter Beacon entirely, to kill thousands in Vale alone, likely ten times that as the CCT network failed and the Grimm surged globally. And set off by a plan to trick Pyrrha Nikos, Beacon's wunderkind, the woman looming over her right now, into murdering a student. It was all there. And they'd seen it. There were tears forming in the corner of Pyrrha's eyes as she gripped her, now almost _pleading_, "He's… he's still fighting for you, don't you understand what that- what that _means?_"

Jaune was… of course he was. No evidence in the world would make him turn his back on her. The knowledge curdled in her stomach like bile, knowing that Pyrrha was right and knowing that, for all she'd done, he wouldn't turn his back on him.

Dulled as her wits were, hopeless as things seemed, Cinder Fall was still a master tactician. Survival, as an onerous a burden as it seemed, meant assessing her situation. Pyrrha, alone, had gone after her, leaving Jaune and the rest behind. She must have prepared some kind of backup, some way of messaging the others while she delayed her. Perhaps the rest of the group was following behind and would be here soon? Unlikely. If Jaune was fighting for her like Pyrrha said, his friends likely wouldn't stop trying to persuade him, leaving them in a long stalemate. Besides, they had no idea where to go, and unlikely to guess the right location—why would a criminal mastermind go to the roof, of all places, to look out across the darkness? But Pyrrha… Pyrrha had guessed that immediately. Why?

But Pyrrha wasn't giving her time to think the question through, trying to physically shake the truth out of her. "Admit it!" her jaw clenched and her words choked with emotion, "Just admit it!"

But Cinder didn't want to talk. "Admit _what?_" she finally spat, hateful and ugly, "That he cares for me more than he ever will for-"

She hadn't seen the punch coming even as she baited it, an uppercut blow directly into her stomach, as fast as a tournament champion could throw, and knocking the wind out of her. She crumpled to the ground, gasping for air as Pyrrha released her grip. It had been a childish gambit, but it achieved its aim. It was better than talking.

"Tell me! Tell me if it's true!" She screamed at her, all patience spent. Foolish. If it was true, she was alone on a rooftop with a professional murderer. Nobody would do that, unless…

Unless she truly did believe, or _wanted_ to believe, that she could be innocent. That this wasn't a gambit to catch her, to slow her down before an arrest, but a sincere, naïve faith that she was a lost, desperate girl caught up in forces she couldn't overcome, that she was… a girl like Pyrrha Nikos. That's why she carried no weapons, called for no backup. That's why she went to the roof. She knew where she would have gone, if she was feeling lost and hopeless. She went to where she would have gone… and she had found Cin there.

She was tired. Exhausted. As she staggered back to her feet, all she could think was how heavy everything felt and how badly she just wanted to go to sleep and not have to wake up. "It's true." She looked at Pyrrha, the shock and hurt blooming as grief flashed across her face. "It's all true."

But then she watched as that familiar snarl of anger cut back in and rage took over. "Why!" Her right fist made contact with her cheek, her reflexes far too dulled to attempt to block. "Why would you do this to us!" Her left collided across her eye, a whiplash down her neck as she staggered. "How could you do this to Jaune!" This blow connected directly with her nose, which crumpled and broke, a stream of red following her hand as she pulled it away.

Whether from uncontrollable rage or just being an expert fighter, she had to admit the girl hit like a truck. Her languid attempts to defend herself, dulled by her exhaustion, were wholly ineffective. She slumped back to the ground, her balance thrown off from what was probably a developing concussion. Her aura should have restored her, but it felt just…

Pyrrha grabbed her by the dress, yanking her back on her feet before giving her a sharp strike across her face. "Fight back! Fight back _damn you!_"

She laughed, tunelessly, feeling the blood drip down her chin. "Do you think it matters? Do you think any of this will-"

Her words were cut off as she was slammed shoulder-first into the brick wall, pain lancing down her side. Pyrrha gripped her by the throat and slammed her against it again, her voice, an explosion of rage and grief, crying out, "Murderer!" Stars burst across her vision, as her head hit the wall _hard._ Aura fizzled, her soul far too discordant and defeated to function. Before she could gain her bearings, another punch came in, the cries of "Murderer! _Murderer!_" echoing in her ears.

The trace of tears stained Pyrrha's face as she pinned her against the wall, her face frozen between grief and rage. Cin almost had to laugh—what was she going to do? She so clearly _wanted_ to kill her, she had means, motive, and opportunity, but she didn't have that essential edge, the willingness to end another's life. The bounds of civilization, the rules of conduct, the basic compassion for human life: they held her hand back in nightmarish indecision. She couldn't kill, but she clearly couldn't just let her live. They would sit like this until-

Suddenly, Pyrrha pulled away, letting Cin slide down the wall in a punch-drunk stupor. Her pulse thudded in her ears and she scrambled to understand the blur of red and green in- _EMERALD!_

She hadn't run! But as Cin struggled to maintain equilibrium, to activate her aura, _anything_, she realized with dismay that Emerald's ambush had failed as soon as she struck. One of her blades had gone flying as Pyrrha expertly disarmed the girl, clattering against the roof. The other was still in Emerald's hands, but even unarmed, Pyrrha was by far the stronger fighter.

"Think I didn't know your trick? That I wasn't expecting your Semblance?" she spat. Emerald may have been an experienced street fighter, but in a straight fight against a champion, she was practically a rag doll in her hands. Pyrrha, a new fury in her voice, gripped her and slammed her into the wall, just like she had done to Cin. "Do you think I didn't read what you planned _to do to me?_" Her voice was shrill, hysterical. Cin staggered to her feet, trying to help her friend and struggling to make sense of why Emerald seemed unable to use the remaining blade of Thief's Respite in her hand, a haze of black-

Her semblance!

Emerald's strength failed and she screamed as the magnetically controlled blade jerked and tore through her leg, a horrifying bloom of red showing that she'd pierced her aura. Pyrrha turned around, her face now a mask—if rage, fear, grief, or hatred burned inside her, her eyes betrayed no emotion. But she could tell—if she was striking powerfully enough to go right through Emerald's aura, then her decision had been made. There would be no arrest. She was out for blood. She was here to kill her.

Good. Someone had to. But she wouldn't let her take Emerald, too.

That thought focused her through her concussion haze, igniting her aura back to life as she staggered and attempted to conjure fire enough to finish the both of them off. It was a weak effort, her guttering aura still feeling clumsy and unwilling, but she could call forth fire enough to force Pyrrha to back off from Emerald as she dodged the flames.

She ducked forward, firing a quick volley of flame to drive Pyrrha further back into the defensive and put herself between the two. "Emerald! Run!" She spat some blood as she turned to her associate.

The girl stammered, leaning heavily on her uninjured leg. "I- I can't leave-"

"Do it!" she screamed. In an instant, the girl was gone, slipping into the nighttime darkness. Good. Emerald was the most capable of all of them at disappearing from notice. Wounded or not, she was a talented thief, and had been well trained. She would survive this. _She would survive this!_

She smiled, even as Pyrrha lunged for her—a gambit so ludicrous, she should have realized was a feint. She snapped to the left, Cin's swing going wide, leaving only a shower of sparks in the air, and dashed for Emerald's discarded weapon. Fire surged from Cin's fingertips as the pounding in her head, the lash of her heartbeat or her panic, made her vision blur. Something black—her semblance!—and then a deep _bite_ of a blade tearing across her hip. She spun, watching the blade sail over the side, followed by a crimson spray, the red globules sparkling in the air, almost frozen in time for a few moments, then whirling back to see as Pyrrha tackled her to the floor, a last gout of flame singing the girl's arm but hardly even delaying the rain of blows that now came down upon her.

If whatever dread kinship led Pyrrha to seek Cin on the roof, that same connection now came out in a bloody-minded fury Cinder knew all to well. Few of her enemies had seen this before, beneath the careful, composed veil of her persona, but she knew all to well what Pyrrha was feeling at this moment. The anger that had kept her alive under Salem was now turned on her. Lost in her rage, Pyrrha's strikes were no longer precisely aimed blows, now descending into a wild flurry of fists. Some part of Cinder's strategic mind that still somehow functioned mused that the quiet, controlled champion must have, like her, always had that rage boiling somewhere in the back of her mind, only now it was fully unleashed.

"You wanted!" Right fist to cheek. "To make me a murderer!" Left fist to throat, induced choking reflex. "To make me _kill someone!_" she shrieked as another punch slammed into Cin's eye and she saw stars. Vision now a darkening tunnel, but she could still feel hands tightening, now, around her throat. It seems she would make her a murderer after all, wouldn't she? _Wouldn't she?_

Pyrrha suddenly relented, releasing her throat and staggering backwards, but now, even as the blows had stopped, her head was still filled with a ringing sound and a tremendous dull _ache_, possibly a skull fracture. She felt a hot pressure against her eyes and the edges of her vision were framed in black. Still, even as black spots bloomed in the haze of her vision, she could see, piercing through the darkness, the unmistakable horror in Pyrrha's eyes, the realization of her own bloodstained hands.

But that couldn't last. "Never… killed… before…?" she rasped, "Do it… you have to…"

"He'll n-never f-for, forgive me," she sobbed, "but I c-can't let you- _I can't let you do this!_"

"Do it… I wouldn't show… mercy." She wasn't sure if she said it out loud or not, she couldn't muster the strength to care. All was lost. This moment had been fixed, as far back as when she first attacked the Maiden. Maybe even earlier, maybe she had just been born doomed. "Just... let it end. _Please_. Just let it end!"

Pyrrha loomed over her, at once a terrifying visage of her impending death, and yet, unmistakably, an emotionally ravaged teenage girl. A bizarre pulse of Cin's instincts cried out to comfort her, to reassure her that she would be okay. Futile and absurd as the thought was, she was gripped by a deep sympathy for the girl as tears streamed down her face. She was as trapped in this bloody ruin as the rest of them, but she would live to see tomorrow. Pyrrha would be the one left to pick up the pieces, while Cin would- Cin would-

Whatever happened, she deserved it.

"PYRRHA, NO!"

Her vision was now almost completely black, she could hardly see him as more than a shadow on the roof, but from his voice, she immediately knew everything. She heard the muffle of Pyrrha's sobs as he comforted her. She felt his gaze upon her, a bloody wreck of a woman, some cautionary tale about losing one's way. In all the ways she imagined it would end, in imprisonment or death, as a criminal, a traitor, a hero, she had always known that she didn't want Jaune to see her die. To see how far she'd fallen. This… was even more painful than she had imagined. She closed her eyes. She couldn't bear it any longer.

And then she felt his hand on her shoulder. It was warm and close and she realized he was saying something, something she couldn't make sense of.

She gripped onto him, like a drowning swimmer. She knew she was dragging him down with her, drowning him too, and she _hated _herself for it, for her cowardice, but she couldn't let go. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to lose him, after all this. She didn't want to let go.

"J-Jaune! Y-you can't, she's a k-kill-"

"It's alright Pyrrha," he practically whispered. "It's alright."

Blinking through tears, she could see his face, the sorrow, the hurt, the compassion. She clung to him and sobbed. "Don't, d-don't leave me, please, I-"

"Shhh, I won't," he soothed her, the fear, the uncertainty trembling beneath his voice, but Cin could hardly hear it as he pulled her and Pyrrha both into his embrace. "I'm here, I've got you. Both of you. It's all going to be alright. We'll figure this out." She looked into his eyes. Had they always been so blue? "I won't leave anyone behind."

He held the both of them in his arms, grief and fear and blood staining his clothes as he gripped them both tightly. Cinder told herself there was nothing he could do, that her fate was sealed. And yet, she believed it anyway. And that hope in hopelessness became a wordless prayer. For the first time in years, she prayed. She didn't know to who or for what, but she gripped Jaune back and desperately, plaintively, released a silent prayer into the cold night's sky.


	7. The Glass Slipper

_The heat of the furnace surged against her, sweat dripping down her face, as she dipped the blowpipe in the crucible. This was risky work: if her father realized what she was doing, unlikely as it might be, she'd be in for a world of trouble. She'd been explicitly forbidden from using the furnaces for her own projects, for "wasting fuel," and the phantom pain of an old bruise on her cheek stung as she remembered his anger from her last attempt to slip beneath their notice._

_But pain was focusing. It made her strong, gave her purpose. She'd been doing the work of glassblowing since childhood, but this time, it was for real, because this time, it was for her. Not for her parents, not for their business, but to express herself. She was 14 now, and she could take charge of her life. No matter what came of it, it would be worth it for that._

_A molten lump could be curled, streaked, and colored, shaped into something beautiful. Something fragile. Annealed carefully, lest it crack as it cooled, and then handled just as delicately for the rest of its life. She poured her labor, her skill, her practice into her tools to make something precious. It would also make something dangerous, a proof of her transgression, but liberating—a proof of her disobedience. It would be worth it._

_It was... a dolphin. She had seen a glass dolphin in one of Saph's magazines and she wanted so badly to make one for her. And now she had. Well, it was something like a dolphin. It had… something like the shape of one. Looked more like a pear with flippers. But it was good, for her first effort! She smiled as she imagined what Saph would think when she saw it._

* * *

Cin looked at her interrogator impassively.

Qrow Branwen, ex-bandit, habitual drunk, Ozpin's self-pitying dog who'd had the good fortune to set her on this path in the first place. Had he not interrupted her, she'd never have had to infiltrate, never have seen Jaune again, never would have collapsed so terribly. She'd still be Cinder Fall, right hand woman to the Queen of the Grimm. Or perhaps she would have collapsed anyways, the trauma of her losing her village inevitably and inexorably tearing her apart from the inside, no matter what she did.

This was the second time she'd seen him this night. The first was at her arrest; he was with two other known members of Ozpin's inner circle, Glynda Goodwitch and General James Ironwood of Atlas. Evidently, they didn't trust the message Jaune had relayed to Team RWBY that she had been subdued, but it seemed that it only took one look at her for them to realize that the fight had been beaten well out of her. All but Qrow, really. There was no sympathy in his eyes, just a searing and familiar hate. Jaune had, to his credit, attempted to put on a brave face before them, but it had only taken a look from Ironwood to quash it. After that, it was a blur. She'd been separated from Jaune and Pyrrha and led to this interrogation room somewhere within the school, where she sat, in dull incomprehension, until Qrow came in to glare at her some more. She wondered if the students even knew such a thing was here, beneath their school. She wondered where Jaune was.

She looked back to her interrogator, seeing the dull embers of that hatred still burning in his eyes. But from the looks of things, he'd already started drinking well in advance of this business. Or maybe he just always looked that way.

"My niece…" he started, slow, a little unsteady, but with that quiet intensity Cin knew all too well. "She called me a little bit ago, just bawlin' her eyes out about you…" If he thought she'd respond to him, he was mistaken. If he was annoyed by her silence, he didn't show it. "And she's not the crying type. Tellin' me that there's got to be some mistake, that her sister's inconsolable, that you're _different_ from that." He chuckled at that, slow and joyless. "Got your claws in them deep, huh?"

She was tired. More than anything, she was tired.

"They don't know who you are." He leaned forward across the table, the stale scent of gin wafting over her. "They don't know what you are. But I do."

Cin gave him an annoyed look. He was taking his time, but she could tell this wasn't a good interrogation strategy. There was no reason to tell her that, for whatever maddening, inscrutable reason, Yang and Ruby somehow still had a naïve faith in her. If she was the master manipulator he thought she was, who'd suborned the two, he'd just be confirming something she already knew. And Qrow wouldn't believe that she was someone with enough of a heart to feel the pain of knowing how much her deception hurt them. But this only left her confused. There was no way this knowledge, as a revelation or a twist of the knife, would lead her to talk in any circumstance she could imagine. And if it wasn't an effective interrogation strategy, she had to wonder, what was he actually getting at?

"I know it cause I've seen it. Got to see it firsthand. Saw you attack," his voice suddenly started to quaver, suppressed emotion bleeding in, "one of the most heroic and giving women I have _ever_ known. And you killed her. She might still be breathing, but… you killed her, Cinder. And _nothing_ will ever change that."

He really wasn't talking to her, was he? He was more vocalizing his thoughts out loud as he... Cin was suddenly very aware now how physical the man in front of her was. He may have been a washed up drunk, too rough and unsteady to really threaten the subtlety of their plans, but face-to-face, she couldn't deny the simple truth that he was the one who handled Ozpin's black bag work for a reason. This was a killer as sure as she was, only she was the one disarmed and handcuffed to a table. She suddenly realized why he might have been drinking.

"You know…" he drawled, the faint _gleam_ of a combat knife emerging from his sleeve. "Only one person's watching me right now, and while he and I don't see eye-to-eye on everything, I figure he ain't gonna intervene to save _you_. Ain't fast enough, anyways. So I've just got to ask you, do you think-"

The intercom unexpectedly crackled to life as a squeaky, teenage voice, modulated by the rough static, filled the room. "UNCLE QROW! _YOU CAN'T DO THIS!_"

"GODS DAMNIT RUBY, I'M-" he roared, then suddenly seemed to remember that he was interrogating her. He slammed his fists on the table and hissed, "You just wait right here while I sort this out." Then he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she let it out. The taste of fear felt strange in her mouth—familiar to Cin, anathema to Cinder—but it had been a long time since she had truly felt it. Alone once more, Cin took the time to look around the room and regain her balance. Metal table bolted to the ground, uncomfortable metal chair, one-way mirror on the wall, and a light that was set at a frequency certainly engineered to be unpleasant. And that was it. Typical interrogation room fare. Not much to think about, other than whatever had just happened with Ruby.

It made no sense. They knew she was guilty; they had all the evidence they needed to know that. Was this Emerald's handiwork? She would be touched by the gesture, but… it would only dig her in further with this. And worse, Emerald should be anywhere other than Vale right now. If she stayed so close, she'd get caught for sure. Would Ruby Rose have done this on her own? Break into a secure facility, risking trouble with Beacon, Vale, and Atlas, sneaking to an interrogation room, either distracting or somehow subduing General Ironwood, so that she could, she could… She wasn't sure what she thought her goal was. To keep her alive? She couldn't possibly be so naïve to disbelieve the evidence of her own eyes.

But Qrow had revealed that she and her sister both apparently did have some naïve, inexplicable faith in her. It couldn't be Emerald's work, she would know if she had gotten her hooks that deep into RWBY, but no other option could make any sense! Didn't they realize she was dangerous? Did they not understand that they had to cut a thing like her loose before she pulled them all down?

Thinking about it hurt, both from confusion and in an unfamiliar way she didn't like thinking about. So she tried not to think about it, leaning back in her chair and wincing a little as the back cut into her. Well, even now, she had to admit, a crooked grin crossing her face: that interruption had been kind of funny.

* * *

It was hard to tell time in lockup. A deliberate strategy of her incarceration—kept her disoriented, confused. The mind didn't handle long periods of abstract boredom well, getting anxious, tired, and jittery as the subject wasn't sure if it'd been minutes, hours, or days. And it reminded them that they were totally at the mercy of their captor. She'd been trained in how to resist this kind of pressure, but still, it was grating to experience.

She wasn't sure how much time it had been since Qrow left. Nor was she sure how long it had been since Pyrrha had beat her within an inch of her life. Aura had closed up the cut along her abdomen and cleared up the bruises, which dulled the worst pains. By that, she knew it had been at least a while, especially with her Aura in such an uncooperative state, but it was hard to tell exactly how long. And worse, she wasn't sure how long it had been since she'd slept. She wanted to sleep, desperately, but refused to give her captors the opportunity to take advantage of it.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the lock on the door clicked, and then the door opened. Headmaster Ozpin. Here for a conversation very different from the one they last had.

And yet, he seemed to be in the same good spirits as he moved to the table and seated himself. A dossier was in his hands, which he quickly placed on the table in front of himself and slid over to her. She took it and read "CINDER E. 'Cin' FALL" emblazoned across the top. The picture of her that had been used for her Student ID from Haven was clipped to some other paperwork about her. Her fictional student records. An intelligence report from Atlas. And… a family tree.

He gave her a wry smile as she looked up from the files. "It seems you still have some fans among the student body. Ms. Rose has mounted… quite the defense for you."

Unlike with Qrow, she knew silence would do her no good here. She might have been able to run circles around his defenses, but something told her that now she was seeing Ozpin's real face, and he would find whatever he was looking for. Might as well have it out in the open, put an end to the cloak-and-dagger. "Don't blame her," she murmured, "she's young."

"But perceptive." Cin gave him an unimpressed look. "A simple soul, you might say. She sees more than you think. And if she's willing to risk punishment's we haven't even thought up yet to help you… well, I'm inclined to hear her out. And, as you may have already guessed, Mr. Arc has spoken on your behalf, at great risk to himself, I might add. He makes a surprisingly persuasive case that your circumstances reflect desperation, not malice. That you didn't-"

She couldn't hold her composure any longer. "Why are you telling me this? To taunt me?" she snapped.

"No. I merely wanted to make sure you were aware of all the cards on the table. Oh, and speaking of, you should know, we have been notified by Ms. Rose that your teammates have both offered to negotiate their surrender to us, provided we can guarantee your safety, along with theirs." That… was a surprise. Emerald, she knew, would stick by her no matter what, even risking her own freedom, but to negotiate her own surrender? Was… was this Ruby's influence on her? And Mercury… there was a twinge of guilt for how quickly she'd written off his loyalty.

But it didn't make sense. Too much of this didn't make sense. Ruby, she could understand, a combination of Emerald's influence and her own childish belief in a world without deception. Yang was stranger, but her words form the dance echoed in her head—she couldn't have _meant_ it, right? And even if she was that soft-hearted, Mercury, she knew, was a killer. He had no loyalty to anyone but himself. But the night of the dance again echoed in her mind. There were too many maddening unknowns and all the things she _thought_ she knew were falling apart in her hands.

But perhaps that was the goal. Ozpin certainly looked happy to see what she was going through. "Hearing their words and looking at your options, I would think you'd be inclined to defect."

That brought her back to reality as she reflexively scoffed at the idea. Defect? The best she could hope for was that her knowledge of Salem's plans—most of which they already had—would somehow impress them enough to stave off a summary execution. Particularly considering that execution was the only way they likely knew to get the half-soul malingering inside her. And _that_ assumed that execution was her biggest fear! She glowered at Ozpin, then spoke, "I doubt you can protect me from your underlings. Why would you even think I'd believe you could protect me from _her_?"

"I think you'd find," his face was infuriatingly unreadable beneath his glasses, "that it wouldn't be so much _us _defending _you_, as _you_ defending _us_."

He wanted her to be his spy? Was he so stupid to believe that she could deceive Salem for even a week before that monster found out? To believe she would even _consider_ that deal? "If you think I'll be your pawn, just because-"

"No. Not a pawn. A Maiden."

That word knocked her back into her seat. That was… impossible. Impossible to even consider! She reeled at even the thought of it, and merely gawked at him in incomprehension.

Not waiting for an answer, Ozpin spoke. "It was James, who figured the matter out, actually. You do know General Ironwood of Atlas is in our little conspiracy, correct?" She nodded, slowly. "Exactly—you seemed to be four steps ahead of us at all times. Our secrets were exposed, our countermeasures ineffective, we really seemed to be getting by on luck more than anything. We thought we were holding our own, but looking at the records Ms. Belladonna provided us… we were only ever playing catch-up. We had nearly given you everything on a silver platter. And looking at your full plans, James immediately deduced that, had you not made a series of absurd mistakes, we would have been utterly defeated for sure."

She spat. "So you got lucky. Congratulations."

"Lucky?" he cocked his eyebrow, "No, I don't think it was luck. It wasn't particularly hard to piece the real timeline together. You were winning, handily, and at best, we were just slowing you down. And then it all fell apart, over the course of a few weeks, immediately after you had dinner with some of my students."

She glared at him, but her anger had no force. She was… tired. Too tired. She just wanted him to get to the point, to yank away the false promises and pronounce the sentence. Anything was better than this waiting. "You would give me unmatched power because I was _sad?_ Do you think perhaps _that's_ why we were always four steps ahead of you?"

"Do you think I believe that you are a good person? That you have, as Mr. Arc insists, changed? I do not. But I myself," he smirked, "am also not a good person. I'm not naïve. I know how you think, what you want, how you _fear_—and that tells me that you are _reliable_. Perhaps even more reliable than a good person. I'll let you know that our decision, before this revelation, came down to you and Pyrrha Nikos, and now I am certain you'd take to the role much more ably than she would. Too many… temptations on her side, and without the singular, driving purpose you have."

That… wasn't true. That _couldn't_ be true. There was no way they could possibly- "You think you can control me," she said, slowly, as realization dawned on her, "That's why you're willing to give me the power—you know I'd still be utterly dependent on your support. Your allies will never trust me, Salem will never stop hunting me, and so I'll have no one else I could turn to but you. You'd have all this power entirely under your thumb," she hissed.

He shrugged at the accusation. "I said it myself: do you think I'm a good person? Besides, is that such a _bad_ reason to trust you with the Maiden's power? I do believe you're, ironically, our safest option. You know who our enemy is. And you and I both know that she will _never_ take you back, even if you offered to bring her the Maiden's power. Even if you offered to betray us. You're tainted, _weak_, and if she doesn't kill you herself, she won't stop her agents from seeing their chance to rise up the ranks. So turning to her is only as much a way of hastening your own demise as trying to go it alone. As you yourself acknowledge, without our aid, you'd be a sitting duck. So you work for us and stay alive." He sipped his coffee. "Seems we both win."

"You'd get all that with Pyrrha," she sneered, "except Pyrrha might confide in Glynda Goodwitch, her old teacher, or go to her friends if you asked her to do something immoral. But if I had the power, I'd be your personal Maiden, carrying out whatever you asked me to do, against _any_ of your enemies, because I don't have anyone else to turn to. I'd be trading one Salem for another."

That last barb seemed to hit home, but the shock of the blow only crossed his face for an instant. "It's true: you wouldn't have much support from my allies. And you will, likely, never see Jaune again," she reeled from that—she surely knew it was true before this moment, but hearing it out loud? She wasn't prepared for that. An unnecessary and low blow, but a harsh and effective reminder that she did not have any real power in this conversation. "But I think you'll find that your isolation doesn't give power to me, but, rather, ensures that you won't be tempted by other powers. It's perfect for us, really: you'll be your own agent, but held within the constraints of our organization. After all," that smirk returned to his face, "I already have my doubts you'll be carrying out my orders to the letter."

"How very cynical of you." She gave him her best look of anger and contempt, but she was sure that, in her state, it looked like a desperate and hollow gesture. Still, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Not for her own sake, not for her pride. For Jaune, and Pyrrha, and Ruby, and all the rest of them who risked their lives so this would-be mastermind could accumulate power.

And yet, it was all for nothing. Ozpin's face betrayed no censure. "Cynical, yes, but accurate. Believe me, you're far from the first of her servants I've spoken to." There was something unsettling in the way he said that. A certitude in his eyes that made her know she wasn't the second, or even the tenth. She'd known that Salem had been alive for centuries, maybe even millennia, but she kept her inner circle small. There couldn't have been _that_ many before her, in the decades Ozpin had been alive. And yet… that look in his eyes was undeniable.

No, this was a trick, a deception. He was doing this to throw her off balance. It made her angry, and so she went back to her self-righteousness in an effort to regain control. "Your students… they're too good for you," she hissed.

He was silent, for a moment, a look of sadness seemed to, briefly, cross his face. His voice turned grave. "I… know that better than anyone. Believe me, I do. I work with the bravest, kindest, most heroic souls this world can offer. You've seen them firsthand. And then," his countenance darkened. "I send them to their deaths."

She lowered her head so she could press her fingers to her temples. Her head was killing her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know you. You're not a kind-hearted person, but you're no fool. I'm putting my cards on the table so you know what I'm offering before you make up your mind. I'm no saint, but I'm not _her_, and so your best route still lies with us. After all," he smiled again, but this one lacked any warmth or humor, "Isn't this what you've always wanted?"

It was true, and she hated him for it. She lashed out, "You're insane. For all your calculations, you still haven't answered why I wouldn't betray you at the first chance I got!"

He looked at her in amusement, like she was a petulant child and not a seasoned assassin. "Are you trying to persuade me to _not-_"

"It's true!" she spat.

"No," he shook his head, slowly, almost sadly, "I don't think you would. I really don't."

"Why." It was all she had, a single word that carried all her disbelief and refusal to hope, all her fear and certainty that he was only extended a branch so he could cruelly snatch it away. "Why."

He chuckled. "I think _you_ could tell me the real reason, but if I had to guess—I don't think you want to let _him_ down. And…" his voice seemed to take on a wistful tone, "perhaps this isn't just about calculating our risks. Perhaps there's a part of me that has to believe there's some good in you. To see what Ms. Rose and Mr. Arc and Ms. Sustrai see, what it is about you that makes them willing to stand up to me and my associates. And maybe I need to believe that even the worst people can change, not matter what they've done." She could glimpse past his façade now, could see the sorrow and loss in his eyes. "Jaune and I… I think we've both seen the people we love on the other side of this conflict. But that's not really something you need to consider. Perhaps… it's easier for both of us to just assume that we're doing this with only power in mind. Whatever you decide, I'll give you some time to think over your options."

With those words, he got up from the table and left.

As the door _clicked_ shut, Cin leaned back into her chair and tried to figure out who she had just spoken to. A sentimental fool who was moved by the tearjerking story of some teenagers? A strategic thinker who realized her value as an asset? A calculating, power-hungry mastermind who was little more than a Salem for the other side? A sentimental fool who was moved by the love he saw written deep in her soul? What was true and what were the lies?

And what did it matter which was the real Ozpin? If he was kind or foolish or ruthless, she would be bound to him in the same way. A slave of the power she had thought would free her. The rest of her life would be a battle, against Salem, obviously, but also against any other seekers of that power—or those she had wronged in the past. The rest of her life would be spent watching over her shoulder, endlessly battling monsters, Grimm and otherwise, carrying out missions for a cause she didn't understand, for a master who kept her at arms length. She would leave Salem's service only to serve another Salem.

And perhaps it was just a trick, just a way to demonstrate how much power he had over her. That she would jump at the chance, that she would give in to _hope,_ just so he could snatch it away at midnight, just so he could break her down just a little more. It's what Cinder would have done.

But what if she didn't take it? If she refused to kneel or beg for her life, what happens next? She'd almost been murdered already; he might well take his second chance. Or maybe they'd at least dress it up as an execution, for their students' sake. There was no way to get the soul they needed otherwise. And she couldn't deny she deserved it. She had deserved it at Pyrrha's hands, but this way, no innocent girl would have to stain her soul carrying out the inevitable. And Jaune would-

Jaune would understand. The girl he had known had died years ago. She was just the unquiet dead, a ghost of the past. He had grieved her already, years ago. He would understand- he would-

She took up her file and read it again. "CINDER" and "Cin," both there, both present, side by side. Worlds apart. There. It trembled in her hands, the paper crinkling as she slowly crushed it between her fingers. Choose! The _pulse_ of blood thrummed in her ear. Emerald and Mercury and Ruby and Yang and Pyrrha and _Jaune_—their voices seemed to fill the room. She couldn't shut them out. Choose! All options seemed to collapse into one or the other. The devil or her life! Death or slavery! The fate she deserved or the unknown she feared! She felt the judgment of so many eyes upon her. Years of history swirled around her and froze on the record in her hands. Her village, her home, her parents, her murders, her oaths, her plans, her _brother and sisters!_ Stand with Ozpin! Die at his hands!

Choose!

She looked up at the mirror, certain that Ozpin must be behind the glass, certain that he must be looking straight into her eyes. It didn't matter what he was—it was time to decide who she was. Mustering whatever confidence she felt she could project, she steeled herself for a second, then spoke at last. "I think I've made up my mind."


	8. The Forgiveness of Cins

"Celia Starwright," Ozpin lectured as the elevator descended, "a former Winter Maiden, was also a former assassin. That was how she originally gained the Maiden's power, but once she had done so, she realized that what she had taken came with an incredible responsibility. And so she reached out to me, and served the people of Remnant for years as a hero in the shadows."

"I've never even heard of her," she said, surprised. She didn't know every assassin in the world, but she made it a point to know the major ones, particularly those that would be skilled enough to kill a Maiden and _especially_ if they were a former associate of Ozpin.

"It was well before your time." She looked to him for explanation, but, of course, there was none forthcoming. "In her example, I see a chance for you to do the right thing. I don't know if she ever found peace or forgiveness, but I do know that a great number of people would have perished if not for her choice."

The doors opened, and Cin stepped into the darkness of a laboratory. Deep in the basement of the Academy, lurking beneath the notice of the students and the world, there was this strange assortment of nightmarish machines. She knew, vaguely, what they were and how they worked, Watts had, after all, pieced together intercepted Atlesian intelligence and his own technical intuition into a description of what these machines were and how they functioned, but she knew that none of those details really mattered. Here and now, it wasn't a machine of aura transfer, but life support for a woman. A woman she knew all too well. A woman whom she was about to kill.

She was drawn to her, unable to look away from her peaceful form lying in the machine. One could even think she was sleeping. But Cinder knew the truth. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the body, futile as it may be. Even if she could somehow hear her, Cin knew her apologies meant nothing. But it had to be said. She would spend the rest of her life atoning for what she had done, for more deaths than just this one, but she had to begin here.

She was dimly aware of Ozpin behind her, readying some kind of control panel. "The system was designed around transferring her aura in a way that kept you from having it, but with you being the recipient…" he trailed off. She wondered if Pyrrha would have accepted the offer, to enter a strange machine and take on the unending burden as Vale's guardian. She would have, wouldn't she? She was a good person. She probably wouldn't have even hesitated, a chance to give her life to hold back the Grimm. But then Ozpin spoke and brought her back to reality. "So all we have to do is keep you proximate as we switch off life support."

Proximate. She only had to be nearby. And yet, she felt compelled to rest her hand on Amber's. She shouldn't have died like this, in a dark forgotten cave, tied up in wires and strange machines, with only these two around to witness her passing. She shouldn't have died at all, and not to satisfy some cruel, petty greed. But Cin knew what she could not take back. At the least, she could ensure that someone was holding her hand at the end. At the least, she could give her that small measure of compassion.

A switch was flipped, she felt a sharp, electric _jolt_ in her hand, and then-

Things seemed clearer, now.

For the first time since she had attacked Amber, her soul was calm. No, that wasn't true. For the first time since her childhood, her soul felt calm. She felt a presence swirling inside her, familiar, but not like the clamor of the half-soul, more like… well, she knew who it was.

She let go of the hand she was holding and clutched her arms to her chest. "I'm sorry," she murmured, "I am so, so sorry." She felt something she couldn't describe, something in her soul. A wordless voice swirled in her mind, a charge, but… It wasn't forgiveness, she was certain of that, but it had the feeling of possibility, of the example of a better woman. The one she would have to live up to.

She would have a lifetime to do that.

She looked to Ozpin, who gave her a slow, sad look. What did he see when he looked at her? A Maiden? A killer? A tool? "I take it you are now our Maiden?"

She nodded. "I… I am."

Ozpin offered his hand to her. "If you think you're ready, then I think it's time to leave."

* * *

"It will be a hard road ahead of you, but… you won't face it alone. It took some work on my part, but my colleagues have agreed to some of your demands."

Those had been the only words Ozpin had said to her on the elevator. She didn't ask which demands—she didn't want to get her hopes up—but she believed it to be a gesture of good will and took it as such. They had completed the rest of the ride in silence as she adapted to the feel of having this new power flowing through her. It was tremendous, as extraordinary a strength as she had so long hoped for, and yet… she had never felt smaller, more vulnerable. She supposed she ought to get used to it, as the elevator _dinged_ and the mechanism of the doors whirred into action.

She stepped out, into the light, where she found a small crowd waiting for her. Immediately, she saw, as she had asked, that Jaune was there. And Emerald, both hands clutching Ruby's arm and clearly so nervous, she practically squeaked when she saw them. And she saw Mercury, as surprised as she was that he'd stayed, she was happy to see him. He stood next to General Ironwood, and she had apparently interrupted a discussion between the two. An odd pairing, that. What did they have to discuss: their prosthetic limbs? But then she realized: how much did she really know about Mercury? About any of them there? She considered herself a careful analyst, but... how much had she realized in the past weeks that she simply did not know about those closest to her? She knew strengths, fears, patterns of behavior—but what did she know about their hopes? Their inner lives? They were strangers to her. As if to prove her point, she notice how the General seemed oddly at ease for a military man. She would have thought him to have an objection to this plan, but… then she noticed that, of Ozpin's group, Qrow was the only one not present.

The light in her soul darkened at that, and she felt a new sorrow. The first of many, she supposed. He was right to hate her, to hate what she took from him. She didn't know what relationship he and Amber had, but from the pain she felt, they had clearly been close. Lovers? Friends? Comrades-in-arms? Whatever they had, she had been the one to end it. There were some debts she would never repay, that she'd have to live with for the rest of her life.

Ozpin looked around the room as well, though far less concerned, before addressing his allies. "The procedure was a success. Cinder Fall will serve as Vale's Maiden, as Amber did before her. We will assist her in her efforts to protect the innocent from the threat of the Grimm. For what she was before… she is now our ally in the fight for all the people of Remnant."

His words were sober; he was issuing instructions, not trying to redeem her in their eyes. After he finished, Glynda Goodwitch approached her, with a severe look on her face. "Earn this," she said, curtly, and then turned her back on her and walked away. General Ironwood merely nodded and followed. They might have acquiesced to the plan, but it was clear that they had little illusion about who she was.

But with Ozpin's group out of the way, before she could let their rejection set in, Jaune and Emerald had already raced over to her, Ruby and Pyrrha only slightly behind them. Jaune was the first to speak, his voice full of trepidation. "Are you…" She guessed his question and nodded. She was Cin still, or perhaps, she was now. Either way, she nodded as a wave of relief washed over his face.

Before he had a chance to say anything more, Emerald was already next to her with her scroll out. "I've got everything prepared for the next step, ma'am, starting by checking with some of our old contingencies and seeing if we can catch some of former allies before they've realized we're turncoats. Roman went to ground fast, so I think he saw this coming, but I've got leads on some of our old informants. I've also coordinated with Ozpin's group that-"

She stopped speaking as Cin rested a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Em. I know you've figured things out for us."

Emerald paused, momentarily surprised by the gentleness of her touch, before she crushed Cin in a tight hug. "I told you," she whispered into Cin's shoulder, "I'm loyal to you. No one else."

She looked up from the hug to a pair of silver eyes staring at her. In her meekness, Ruby was hard to read, but she saw notes of sympathy, of hope… and of a soft, persistent jealousy. She had risked herself enormously in order to save her life, even though Cin had done nothing but use and betray her. "And, Ruby… I'm sorry." The girl was a mystery to her, but the warmth in her soul recognized her immediately. She was young, but... she was a true hero. Like Amber was.

"It's okay," she said, eyes shifting to the ground. "Emerald and I had a long talk, and it's just…" she trailed off, looking back up to Emerald.

"It just wasn't meant to be," Emerald finished. There was real pain in her voice, pain she concealed from everyone, but… Cin could see it there. Another crime to add to her tally. Lesser than the others, but… it would hurt, knowing what she'd done to the both of them.

"I'm gonna be honest," Mercury cut in with his airy bravado, "Really not feeling it as a hero, you know? Kind of liked the whole outlaw thing we had going, but I swore an oath to keep Emerald's ego in check, and so I guess I'm in too."

"And this way you don't go to prison," Emerald corrected.

He threw up his hands. "There can be multiple reasons for why I do things!" She'd have to ask him—later, of course, but eventually—what brought about his change of heart. Or perhaps… maybe there had never been a change, just a resolute heroism inside him that neither she nor his father could truly stamp out. Stranger things were true in this world, and she was living proof of that.

As weak as she felt, she still smiled at them both. They were going to war against a monster beyond imagination, a woman of almost infinite patience and cruelty and… she felt they could manage. They were skilled, two of the best assistants she could ask for this, but moreso, she knew they would support her. They would be her strength, against the insurmountable power before them. With them, she knew it was possible.

But that thought, of where they were going and how soon they were leaving, reminded her that she had a painful task already in front of her.

She looked to Jaune, and tried to ready herself to say goodbye.

Their eyes met, a shared pain sparked between the two, and he took the initiative to speak. "Cin, it's- oof!"

She pulled him into her own tight hug, strong enough to knock the wind out of him. Big Sister's prerogative, and he was, after all, her only brother in this world. "If it wasn't for you…" she started, struggling to hold back tears, "You've changed everything, Jaune. Never forget that. Things would be so much different if it wasn't for you." Then she simply held him, just for a little longer. "And be good to Pyrrha," she choked.

The girl, quiet until now, looked over to her, ashen faced and ashamed. "Cin, I- I'm-"

She cut off her apology. It was the least she could do. "You did what you had to," she soothed the younger woman, "you have nothing to apologize for. None of you do." Pyrrha blinked back tears. It seems that words would fail her, so Cin took the initiative. "Look after Jaune. He needs you as much as you need him," she murmured.

Jaune rested a comforting hand on Pyrrha's shoulder, then looked to Cin. "We're part of this now," he said, resolved, a Huntsman in every way, "We will meet again."

"I- I hope so," she choked, "Goodbye, Jaune."

He fought to keep a brave face. "It's not goodbye. Not forever." She wanted to believe him. She clung to the belief, knowing that it would stay with her in the journey ahead. Then he pulled her into one last hug, his tears now flowing freely as he released her.

"If you're ready," Ozpin said, leading her to her future, "your duties lie ahead of you now. But remember: you have allies here. More allies than even you might realize."

She nodded, doing all she could to maintain her composure in front of her companions and the Beacon students. Ozpin and Emerald were giving her the basics of how they planned her first mission, but the details weren't that important. The light breaking through the window told her it was already noon if not later, and she hadn't slept in more than a day. And yet, as tired as her body was, there was something within her that surged as she pondered her next move. She could feel that pulse of warmth in her soul, a strange familiarity from experiences that were not hers. The part of her that wasn't her before knew this routine full well as she steadied herself and stepped out of the room.

She had a duty to attend to, after all.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

Snow crunched under hooves. A few birds chirped in the early dawn. Her horse whined in annoyance as it continued down the path. She patted it with a quick, "Easy, girl," and sighed, thinking that she was just as annoyed as the horse.

They were travelling further than they ought to. They'd just finished driving Tyrian out of the region—unfortunately, they hadn't been able to finish him off, she had been looking forward to repaying him for the scar he'd left her—but in chasing him out of Vale, they'd gone a far ways away from where they were scheduled to rendezvous with their contact and resupply with Ozpin's group. She could have, in theory, rescheduled, had Mercury deliver a message for them while he was gathering intelligence for their contacts in Vale, but she knew that, no matter what she had accomplished in the past three years, she was still under suspicion. She would always be under suspicion.

Finally, she broke the early morning quiet. "Have you heard who our contact is yet?" It was unusual that Ozpin was leaving them in the dark for so long, though she figured it might just be due to caution. Salem's reach was long, and Cin knew all too well how good she was at turning a defeat around. But Emerald looked at her uneasily, which only annoyed her. "Oh, just tell me, it can't be as bad as you're thinking."

"Um, well," she mumbled, "It's kind of a-"

She cut her off, exasperated. "If it's Qrow, I'll live. It won't be the first time he's left our supplies in a creek and told us-"

"It's Team JNPR."

She was silent at that. The sort of silence that seemed to draw all sound out of the world surrounding her. It should have been good news. She should have been delighted, over the broken moon with joy. Jaune had… she hadn't been able to follow his career closely, but what few scraps she'd been able to learn she hoarded greedily. He was starting to gain notice, along with his team. Successful missions, daring strategies, the sort of heroism they'd heard stories about, when they were children. He was…

He was growing up in the image of his father.

She wasn't unaware, but at the same time, it was still hard to imagine that he was experienced enough, or even old enough, to be entrusted with a mission like this. But he was a fourth year student, now, wasn't he? She hadn't seen Jaune in person, or even had any direct contact with him, since she left Beacon with her new power and commission. Just as Ozpin had told her, she had expected she would never see him again. Officially speaking, she did not exist. She was a ghost that lived in the shadows of civilization, her exact location being a closely guarded secret known only to a few. She had used Mercury and Emerald to keep her informed of any word they might hear about him and his team, but that was as close as she could get. As close as she was allowed to get.

She realized there was a woman on a horse ahead of them. Wrapped in a dark, heavy cloak, but immediately recognizable to Cin, even from this distance. She'd certainly seen her enough in the intervening years, in advertisements and news stories, her celebrity reaching even to the provincial backwaters she lurked. She wore her hair short now, but it's brilliant crimson still stood out like a flame.

Cin approached warily—as bright and chipper as the girl looked now, she hadn't forgotten their last encounter, or the look of bloody wrath she wore as she nearly beat her to death with her bare hands. "Pyrrha," she started curtly.

Her voice, in contrast, was warm and kind. "Cin. It's good to see you again." Mature. She wasn't a teenager anymore, that was for sure. She made a quick glance to Pyrrha's left hand, but quickly noticed her finger was bare. She wasn't sure if she was disappointed to see that.

It fell to Emerald to break the silence. "Uh, where's _Jaune?_"

Pyrrha laughed, the sort of kind, disarming sound Cin didn't hear much. "He _should_ be here, but, of course, he's freaking out about making sure everything's perfect at camp." Even with her wariness, she couldn't help but smile at that. It was good to know he was still her Jaune. "He's missed you. A lot. And I swear I must have talked him down from a panic attack every week. But I'm sure you'll get to see him have one personally once you make it to camp. Oh! And we'll, I mean, the rest of JNPR, we'll be sure to give you some space. Ren and Nora are already out with Professor Goodwitch establishing our perimeter, so we're certain the area will be secure. Jaune really wanted you to have a chance to relax."

Her tone was light, humorous, but her words just put Cin more on edge. If Ozpin was feeling sentimental, if he wanted to reward her, he could have sent Jaune with one of his agents. Sending five for a rendezvous… it just made no sense! It was too noisy, too large an operation. Even with Tyrian routed, she wasn't arrogant enough to assume she'd fully driven Salem's influence from Vale. She didn't like it one bit. Something else was up, and the fact that Ozpin was giving her something she _wanted_ raised the hairs on the back of her neck. All she could think as the three of them rode onwards, Emerald peppering Pyrrha with questions, was what he could want in exchange. What demands would he have that he would feel the need to offer her this in exchange?

She'd learn soon enough. They broke out of the trees and suddenly, she was looking down a hill to where a campsite had been set up, a small curl of smoke rising from a campfire. And of course, hovering over it, she saw him.

She didn't have words. They rode down the hill, the camp getting larger, more real, as they drew closer. Pyrrha whistled to get his attention, and he leapt up from the fire, waving at them with wild excitement. She could smell breakfast cooking over the fire. What was the last truly good meal she had? Probably not since she last saw Jaune. In spite of her desire to maintain composure, she couldn't help herself as she spurred her horse onwards and broke from her companions.

His smile could have killed her. "Cin! I can't believe- It's so good to see you!"

She tried to speak as she dismounted, but words froze in the winter air. It was painful to see him. Emotion, she reminded herself, would only lead to further pain. So she kept her voice clipped, businesslike, as she dismounted and approached him. "Jaune. What does Ozpin-"

But then she was interrupted as, of all things, _a small child _bursting out of one of the tents, followed by his harried-

No.

It wasn't… possible.

For the first time in over a decade, she stood, face-to-face, with her best friend. Cin Fall stared, amazed, at an equally stunned Saphron Cotta-Arc.

She was vaguely aware that Jaune was still standing right in front of her. "I, um, I kind of might have told Ozpin that we had some demands. And I might have, um, wanted it to be a surprise? And if _somebody_ could stay patient for fifteen minutes…"

Another woman emerged from the tent with a chuckle. Terra, Cin realized, it had to be Terra. She walked over to her wife and son. "Sorry, he's been all cooped up in the tent and really impatient to meet his famous Aunt Cinnamon." Then she waved to the stunned Cin. "Hi, I'm Terra! And you must be the magical warrior who protects the world as part of a secret global conspiracy and also gets to decide whether or not I get to stay married to Saph!"

"H-hi," she stammered.

"And _this,_" she gently pushed a suddenly timid looking boy forward, "is our son, Adrian."

The boy stared at her—expectant, but… a little frightened. Cin realized that, in his eyes, she was a stranger, one with a terrible scar across her face. And what stories had he heard of her? The woman who lived in the woods, the mythical witch, who they could only meet in secret? But then… he broke into a broad smile and waved to her with childlike enthusiasm. "Hi!"

She was one of the most powerful beings on Remnant. All the powers of a Maiden, pushed to the greatest mastery of those powers in living memory, backed by a massive intelligence network and her own strategic mind. She could best anyone alive, save one, in direct combat, and she had done more to push the frontier back against the Grimm than any other single person.

And yet a small boy's smile utterly unmade her.

"It's alright," Saph's voice, warm, comforting, _familiar_, came to her aid, "he won't bite."

"He's finally out of that phase," joked Terra. But Cin wasn't listening. She was crouched down, almost at eye level with the boy. She knew she looked like hell; she'd cultivated that look to show Salem's forces that she was no weaker for her defection. And yet, the only thing she saw in those eyes across from her was that childish mix of shy curiosity and friendly excitement. In his eyes, she was just another one of his many, many aunts, just one he hadn't met before.

His mother whispered something to him, and, steeling his courage, he suddenly raced over on stubby child's legs. Before Cin could react, he was upon her, arms thrown around her neck. She almost fell over, before reaching back in her own embrace.

"Hi there," she whispered, "you must be Adrian." The boy nodded, excitedly. She thought of a call from years ago, when she first learned her best friend was a mother. "Your mother… she's told me so much about you."

Saph inched closer, whispering to her son, "Okay, honey, now give her her gift."

She released him from her hug, as the boy nervously, hesitantly, held out his closed hand, and then opened it.

A small glass figurine. Shaped something like a dolphin.

"I saved it," Saph murmured, as Cin's sight blurred with tears, "this whole time, I've kept it safe."

She knelt there, with Saph and Jaune and Adrian and Emerald and Terra and Pyrrha. With the people she loved most in the world. With her family. And she was… she was happy. She was alive and she was happy and she was at peace.


End file.
